Star Tron: Louder Than Words
by MustangAce
Summary: As the Alliance and the Federation move toward a coalition, Lotor throws a monkey wrench in the works. Sequel to Star Tron: The Black Suits Cometh
1. A New Tutor

_Disclaimer: What's owned by either Paramount or WEP isn't mine.  The rest is._

Star Tron: Louder Than Words Chapter 1: A New Tutor 

Captain Driscoll walked through the Castle of Lions, heading to the lounge.  Over the past two weeks he had gotten to know the palace fairly well, having spent most of his time there as he and Gredar negotiated a treaty with Coran, Allura, and Keith.  

The negotiations were going well, and preliminary proposals were already being reviewed by the Federation Council and the Senate of the Galaxy Alliance.  But diplomacy was not on his mind right now.  He had something else to discuss with Keith.

As he expected, he found the commander of the Voltron Force in the lounge, reading over a book of Arusian history.  He looked up when Adam entered the room.  "Hi."

"Yo, Keith," Driscoll replied, settling into a chair across from him.  "Got a minute?"

Keith looked at Driscoll over the top of the book.  "Yeah, sure.  What can I do for you?"

"It's about Allura," said Driscoll.  He noticed the way Keith's eyebrow went up.  _Almost like Spock_, he thought before continuing.  "I've been looking at our records, and I think Allura could use some more training."

"Yeah, she could," Keith agreed.  "She's only been flying a few months.  What's your point?"

"Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to work with her; give her some more training.  Specifically in ACM and combat tactics."

Keith regarded Driscoll critically.  "I like to think I'm teaching her well enough.  And she doesn't seem to have any more trouble than the rest of us against Doom."

"No, don't get me wrong.  It's not about you.  And she is doing pretty good, considering how new she is.  My point is that in the three robeast attacks since I came back, I've upped my score to twenty-nine."

"So?"  Keith asked, not understanding why Adam would be complaining about his good luck.  

"Keith, I'm her wingman.  A wingman's job is to protect the leader's tail while he or she does the shooting.  Therefore, I shouldn't be getting anything.  But I've had to cover her six so often…"  He shrugged.  "See my point?"  He held up a PADD.  "These are all our personal scores for the last three battles.  Check this:  You knocked down fifty-six fighters and damaged a battleship.  Lance, sixty-three and a battleship.  Hunk, forty-seven.  Pidge, forty-one.  Me, twenty-two, which includes one skullship I torpedoed.  Allura scored twenty-six, the least of all five Lion pilots.  She's also taken more damage than the rest of us combined.  She's fine against robeasts and skullships, but she can't hack a fighter battle."

Keith thought a moment, absorbing the information.  "Yeah, I guess you've got a point.  But she'll improve."

"I know, but we can't wait.  We're trained soldiers, and we've had comprehensive flight training.  Allura hasn't.  She was thrown in at the deep end and she's just past dog-paddling, when she needs to be dog-_fighting_."

"That's what the practices are for," Keith replied.  He had made the same conclusion himself, but was having problems finding a solution.  He couldn't spare the time to train her more, nor could the others.  And he was constantly battling Nanny and Coran behind the scenes just to keep her flying.

"Two hours a day plus combat isn't enough.  Would you put a raw cadet on that kind of rotation?  I think not."

"No, I wouldn't," he conceded.  "But what makes you think you can help her?  You've only been in combat five times."

"Granted, but I'm also an ace.  I've been flying for years.  I know my stuff, Keith.  I can teach her air combat maneuvers.  I can teach her how to dogfight, and how to fight a ship that is smaller and quicker than the Lions."

"You'd use _Thunderwing_?" 

"That's the plan."

"And what about the _Berlin_?  Don't you have enough to do commanding your ship?"

Driscoll rolled his eyes.  "Please.  Keith, the big B's on station-keeping mode.  A chimpanzee and two trainees could run her, as Scotty would say.  Gredar can handle things for a couple-a' three more hours a day."

Keith considered the proposal for several minutes, turning it over in his head.  Finally, he asked.  "Have you talked to Allura?"

"No, not yet.  When it comes to flying, you're her CO.  It's your call first."

"Well, you don't seem to think I can do the job," Keith replied.

Driscoll shook his head.  "No, Keith, it's not like that.  Look, I just wanna help.  If you're gonna get all screwy over this, forget it.  I'm perfectly happy to keep racking up my score."

Keith watched Driscoll rise and head for the door.  Just before he got there, he said, "Adam?"

"Yeah?" Driscoll replied, turning around.

"Are you ready to catch a whole lot of flak from Nanny for this?  Because if I agree, and Allura agrees, you're gonna get an earful and then some."

"How much flak can I expect?"

"Like you were flying that Mustang over Berlin."

Driscoll smiled wryly.  "Bring it."

"Okay.  Ask Allura if she's interested.  If she is, you can go ahead and set up a schedule.  I'll try to keep Coran and Nanny off of your back."

Driscoll nodded.  "Agreed."

Keith rose and approached Adam.  "I'll want a full report on each practice.  And you make sure she stays safe.  Because if anything happens to her, it's my butt.  And then I'll have yours."

"Don't worry, Keith.  She's in good hands," Adam assured him, heading out the door.

"She better be," Keith replied as the door slid closed.

***********************************************************************************************

"So the Galaxy Alliance wants to make a pact with the Federation?" Zarkon asked.

The ruler of Planet Doom was seated upon his throne, looking down at his son, Lotor, and Haggar, who stood in the shadows at the far end of the room.  He had just gotten word of the impending treaty.

"Yes, Father," Lotor replied.  "It has been confirmed by our agents and those of Viceroy Throk."

This news was not good at all.  If the Federation and the Galaxy Alliance united, it would almost certainly end Doom expansion in the Near Universe.  And that was only the beginning.  This also posed a grave threat to the other parts of the Drule Confederation.  "This must not be," said Zarkon.  "We must not allow this coalition to proceed."

"But what if they allied with _us_, sire?"  Haggar suggested.  "Consider the possibilities."

"I already have, Haggar.  They must join with us, not the Alliance.  Lotor, you will go to Arus and convince them to join us."

"I'm a warrior, not a diplomat!" Lotor protested.

"You must be both, if you expect to take my place some day," the king replied.  "Now is as good a time as any to learn."

"And what if they refuse?" Lotor asked.

"Then leave none alive," said Zarkon.  "I believe you can help with that, witch?"

"Indeed, sire.  My latest robeast should serve well for that," the witch cackled, as her blue cat yowled.

"Very well.  Then be off at once, Lotor."

"Yes, Father," Lotor replied with a bow.


	2. Proposals

_Disclaimer: What's owned by either Paramount or WEP isn't mine.  The rest is._

Star Tron: Louder Than Words Chapter 2: Proposals 

In Castle Control, Coran was busying himself at the main console, checking the sensors, scanning the maintenance logs, incoming messages, and flight reports, and performing all of his usual morning duties.  Coran took pride in always knowing exactly what was happening on Arus.

As he scanned his instruments, he paused a moment when he noticed the small, blue blip labeled "U.S.S. _Berlin_."  Many on Arus saw her arrival as an omen of good things to come.  But although the assistance from her crew was greatly appreciated, Coran wondered how much better things could be if the ship and her crew could take a more active role.

The humanitarian aid coming from the Federation was wonderful, but they needed more.  They needed military help, too.  During the years of Doom expansion, many old alliances had crumbled as the Galaxy Alliance's influence waned, planets were conquered, and those that remained free looked increasingly to their own interests.  If the _Berlin_ or other ships like her would only help to fight Doom, as well as healing the damage, the war could be brought to a much swifter end.

Just then, Lance came in to relieve him.  Coran quickly brought him up to speed, then headed for the conference room.

**********************************************************************************************

Commander Keith Mendoza watched as Gredar and Driscoll took their seats.  The two Starfleet officers were the last to arrive at the conference.

Keith himself had found himself little prepared to represent the Alliance the treaty negotiations.  He was a soldier, and diplomacy was not part of his training.  Luckily, Coran had helped him to prepare for the negotiations.  He would rather Coran had represented the Alliance himself, but the Prime Minister decided to serve as mediator instead.

Coran cleared his throat.  "I believe both sides have progress to report this morning?"  He saw nods from Driscoll and Allura.  "Very well.  Who will start?"

"I will," said Driscoll.  "The Federation Council hasn't finished reviewing all of the preliminaries, but they've approved the Alliance's request for free passage in Federation space, access to our spaceports, and use of Federation communications systems, assuming that all ships comply with standard security measures."

"All right," said Allura.  "The Alliance is willing to agree to the same for the Federation.  However, there is a problem with your request to establish bases in Alliance territory."

"Like what?" the captain asked.

"First of all, what sort of bases will these be?  Military?" Keith asked.

"Well, yes and no.  Our starbases serve a lot of different purposes.  Administration, science, command, that sort of thing.  The sort of bases we'd put here would be mostly logistical, supporting both civilian and Starfleet ships.  They'd be equipped with defensive systems like shields and phasers, but they ain't got much for offensive capability."

"Can you give us some specs?" Keith asked.

"Not off the top of my head, except, 'big'.  I'll send down some non-classified stuff later," Driscoll replied.

Keith nodded.  "And how many are you looking to build?"

"I dunno.  Probably around ten.  With the speed advantage, we won't need a lot of 'em."  One interesting discovery the _Berlin_'s crew had made was that intergalactic travel was possible, and indeed commonplace in the Alliance.  At top speed, the _Berlin_ could cross the Federation in a few weeks.  An Alliance ship could cross between galaxies in the same time, and the _Berlin_ could do it in a few days.  Mordock suspected that this was due to different laws of warp physics being at work, but hadn't made a positive conclusion.  "But we'd like to locate a shipyard at one of them."

"A shipyard?" Allura asked.

"Why?" asked Keith.

"We're at war, Keith, and the Dominion has hit several of our key shipyards with suicide attacks.  Putting one here would give us a nearly, uh, untouchable base."

"Maybe.  But what if this 'Dominion' manages to attack a shipyard in the Alliance?  What's to stop them from assuming the Alliance is an enemy as well?"

"The only way you'll see a Dominion ship on this side of the wormhole is if the Federation falls."

"And what if it does?" Keith asked.

"I'll close the wormhole before that happens."

"You'll close it?"

"Yeah.  I created it, and I can destroy it."  Adam noticed Allura looking at him with a confused and thoughtful expression on her face.

After a pause, Keith said, "I'll forward the information.  But your starbases would have to act in accordance with Alliance regulations.  You can't do anything that would make the Alliance a target."

"Like?"

"Illegal weapons research, biological experiments that violate the Hotasa Pact…"

"Okay.  No prob," Driscoll cut in, before Keith could elaborate further.  One thing the captain had picked up on quickly was that Keith was not afraid to go into excruciatingly minute detail.

"I assume you would want one near Arus?" Allura asked.

"Yes.  We would need to keep an eye on the wormhole, so we would put a base near Arus' orbital path.  With your permission, of course, Princess."

The discussion continued like that for more than an hour, before shifting to other topics.  Each side spoke on what had been approved, and what still needed adjustment or review.  Finally, Keith said, "The last thing I have is to renew our request for military aid."

Driscoll shook his head.  "Keith, I told you, we can't do that.  To give the Alliance military help, we'd have to be in a state of war.  We can't handle a two-front war right now.  Besides, Doom would have to make the first move.

"Believe me, I sympathize with you.  If it were up to me, the _Berlin_ would shoot down every Doom vessel that we see.  I'll resubmit your request, but don't get your hopes up.  Food and medicine is one thing.  But starships are strictly rationed right now."

"Understood," Keith replied, but the look in his eyes didn't match the words.

On that note, the meeting broke.  Driscoll asked Allura to stay a moment, while Coran and Keith left the room, and Gredar beamed back to the _Berlin_.

"What is it, Adam?" Allura asked.

"Well, I was looking over the debriefs from the last few missions, and, well, you need help."

"Excuse me?" Allura sputtered.  "Captain, I may not be the best pilot on the Force, but I resent…"

"No, no, no, no, no, Princess, wait," said Driscoll, holding his hands up defensively.  "It wasn't a dis.  What I meant is, if you want, I can help you out.  You know, give you some extra training."

Allura regarded him with a cold look.

"Listen, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to say it that way.  And yeah, you're a decent pilot.  But you ain't got all the dogfighting skills you need.  You're great against robeasts and ships, but the fighters…" he held up his hand and wobbled it side-to-side.  "Not so good."

"So I can't fight?"

"That's not what I said.  What I said was that you need to work on your dogfighting skills, and I'd like to help you.  You've got talent, but your training was rushed.  I'm offering to help you refine your skills.  That's all.  No other insinuations or accusations intended."

"Oh.  I see.  In that case, I apologize for my reaction."

Driscoll nodded.  "Understandable."

"What do you propose?"

"Well, like I said, your dogfighting needs a little work.  So that's what I'd help you with.  Maneuvers and tactics.  From what I've seen, it's the fighters that give you the biggest problem."

"Yes, they do."

"Right.  So, do you want to?"

"Yes, of course.  But don't you have to clear it with Keith?"

"Already did.  He told me it was your choice.  The only thing I'm concerned about is Nanny and Coran."

"I haven't let them stop me yet," Allura replied with a devilish grin.

Driscoll smiled.  "Okay, then.  How about we start tomorrow?  Say three-ish?"

"I hope you mean in the afternoon," Allura quipped.

"Yeah, right.  Like I'm gonna set my alarm _that_ early.  I ain't the masochist Keith is."

The Princess giggled at Driscoll's comment.  "No, I don't see how _anyone_ couldmatch him there."

"Yeah.  Anyway, if we're all good on that, I'm gonna head back up."

Allura nodded.  "All right.  Will you be coming to dinner?"

Driscoll shrugged noncommittally.  "Sure.  Same time?"

Allura nodded.

"Okay.  'Till tonight, then."  Driscoll stepped back and tapped his combadge.  "Driscoll to _Berlin_, one to beam up."

Allura smiled at him, and he returned it as he disappeared in a shimmering column of light.

***********************************************************************************************

As Driscoll walked through his ship, en route to the bridge, he thought about what Keith had said.  The way he saw it, the Federation Council was acting foolishly.  Keeping the peace with Doom was simply not possible.  It would only be a matter of time before Doom took issue with the Federation.  Then there would be war.

But the Federation was so worried about the Dominion, albeit with good reason, that they took a "see no evil" approach to Doom.  But that was the problem.  The Drule Empire, of which Doom was a part, was evil.  This wasn't a simple clash of cultures, as had happened between the Federation and the Klingons.  This was a battle of good versus evil.  It was that simple.

Now if only the brass could see it that way…

Arriving on the bridge, Driscoll surveyed the scene as Jacobs rose from the command chair.  "How'd it go, Skipper?"

"Fine, T.J.  Status?"

"Nothing to report.  We've been in normal station-keeping since you and the Commander left," Jacobs replied.

"Good," Driscoll said, taking his seat as Jacobs returned to the tactical station.  The captain scanned a few reports on the small viewer mounted to his armrest.

About twenty minutes had passed when Mordock announced, "Doom vessel approaching."

"Where away?" Driscoll asked, rising from his seat and walking over to the science station.

"Bearing three-four-one mark six.  It's a star-cutter."

"Alone?"

"It appears so, sir," the Benzite replied as Gredar stepped off the turbolift.

"Notify the Castle of Lions.  Go to yellow alert.  Raise shields, standby phasers."  The captain walked toward the main viewer, stopping between the helm and ops consoles.  "Onscreen, Maria."

Lieutenant Singh complied, and the image on the viewer changed to show a small, blue-gray shape against the starfield.

"Magnify."

The image changed again, and the shape of the small, angular ship became clear.  It drew steadily nearer, and finally stopped just outside of phaser range.

"We're being hailed," Jacobs reported.

"Forward the audio to Arus.  I want them to listen in," Driscoll said, returning to his chair.  "Onscreen."

The picture of the ship on the main screen was replaced by that of a blue-skinned man with angular features, yellow eyes, and white hair.  On his head was a helmet reminiscent of a battle-axe.  "This is Prince Lotor of Doom.  To whom am I speaking?"

"Prince Lotor, I am Captain Adam Driscoll of the _United Star Ship Berlin_.  I believe we've met before."

"So we have," Lotor replied bitterly.  "I have come under a flag of truce.  I wish to speak with you."

"Well, I'm here.  I recommend that you don't approach Arus any further.  I'm not sure the Voltron Force would trust your intentions."

"Very well.  I have come to offer you a proposal.  Doom does not want a war with the Federation.  We have no quarrel with you…yet.  But we understand that you are negotiating a treaty with the Alliance."

"That's correct," Driscoll admitted.

"You must cease all negotiations immediately.  If you join with the Alliance, it will be interpreted as an act of war against Doom.  Many worlds have learned the hard way what the consequences are."  
  


"Prince Lotor, that sounds like a threat," Driscoll growled, rising from his seat.

"It is a warning.  Do not meddle in affairs that don't concern you."  Then Lotor smiled, an ugly sneer full of hate and treachery.  "But if you join with us, you would benefit far more than you would with the Alliance.  Doom troops and robeasts to help you against your enemies.  A universe of prizes and resources in which to share.  The Federation could become truly powerful."

Driscoll regarded Lotor with a look of cool indifference.  "We _are_ powerful, Lotor.  And we don't need the spoils of war to prove it.  I'll forward your offer, but don't hold your breath."

Lotor was irritated by Driscoll's remark.  "I warn you, Captain, we will not long tolerate your aiding our enemies.  There is much to be gained by joining with us, and much to be suffered by defying us.  Consider my words well."  With that, the channel closed, and the star-cutter came about and left.

"Gredar, you have the bridge."  Driscoll headed for the turbolift.  As he passed Jacobs, he said, "Get me Nechayev, and put it through to my ready room."


	3. Evaluations

_Disclaimer: What's owned by either Paramount or WEP isn't mine.  The rest is._

Star Tron: Louder Than Words Chapter 3: Evaluation 

"So Doom wants to make a deal," said Nechayev.

"Yes, ma'am, or so they say," Driscoll replied.  He was in his ready room, speaking with the Admiral on a subspace link.  Her face filled most of the small screen on his desk.  He had just finished telling the admiral about the encounter with Lotor, and was seeking her opinion on how to handle the matter.  "So how do you want this handled?"

"His offer is interesting.  You know that some of those robeasts could be helpful," Nechayev said thoughtfully.

"With all due respect, Admiral, what makes you think he wouldn't turn on us later, once we had enough of them in the Federation to do some damage?  I wouldn't trust these blue morons.  Hell, I'd rather have a Ferengi watching by back."

"Maybe so, but we can't ignore his offer.  Or his threat."

"Admiral, if we join with Doom, how long do you think it'd be before they started demanding more of us?  Ships, people, equipment, where would it end?  Zarkon and Lotor know they can't beat us, so they want us on their side, and if we do that, you can bet we'll end up fighting the Alliance."

"If they know they can't beat us, then why would they threaten us?" Nechayev asked knowingly.

Driscoll rose to her challenge.  She wanted him to make a case, and he was more than willing.  "Admiral, that's their whole M-O.  Fear is as important a tactic as military force.  That, and they know we don't want to fight.  They're hoping to scare us into negotiating.  They're trying to terrorize us into siding with them, and last I checked, the Federation don't negotiate with terrorists.

"Admiral, you've seen their way of doing things.  From their own records no less.  They take what they want by any means necessary, and any sort of resistance is met with overwhelming force of arms.  They loot, kill, and destroy for any reason, or none at all.  They are the complete opposite of the Federation.  They go against everything we stand for.  Even considering their proposal is a waste of time, and way hypocritical."

"That's not for you to decide, Captain.  You know we're short of ships and people.  The Dominion and the Cardassians are tying up most of our resources.  We could use the help."

"But not _their_ help.  Ma'am, I've seen the destruction they cause.  Their robeasts make it a point to trample villages and everything else in their path.  These people use slave labor like Nazi camps, and they have no allies.  Only subjugated worlds that serve them.

"We have other allies, Admiral.  The Klingons will support us.  So will the Gorn.  Maybe even the Romulans, I don't know.  But I'm telling you, they are _not_ a threat to us.  Turn them down."

"Are you telling me what to do?" Nechayev asked with a warning in her tone.

"No, ma'am.  I'll follow whatever orders come to me.  But I'm asking you to consider carefully.  We have nothing to gain by joining with them, and nothing to lose by telling them where to get off."

"What about your negotiations?  Is the Alliance going to give us the starbases?"  

Driscoll faltered a moment.  His promise to deliver an agreement for starbases and shipyards in the Alliance was all that kept him on the _Berlin_'s bridge, and out of the brig.

"I don't know," he replied finally.  "It's getting tricky.  They want some type of military help from us, and I think they're going to deny us the bases until they get it.  But they're not making specific demands.  They want help, but what and how much is up to us.  We've got the next move."

"Do you think it's falling apart?"

"No.  The humanitarian aid is still welcome, and they don't want to lose that, but it's not enough to get all that we want.  They've granted us free passage and access to their installations, but I don't think we're gonna get the starbases unless we agree to help them fight Doom."

Nechayev propped her arms up on her desk and cradled her chin on her clenched fists.  She was silent for several minutes, deep in thought, staring at Driscoll for what seemed like an eternity.  Finally, she asked, "Either way, we're heading for a war, aren't we?"

Driscoll nodded.  "I think so."

"Can we avoid it?"  
  


"Yeah, if we retreat and close the wormhole.  But that wouldn't help anyone.  Not the Alliance, and not us."  Driscoll leaned closer to his screen.  "Admiral, the Federation has been fence-sitting long enough.  Now we're being called out, and it's time to commit one way or the other.  As they say in my time, put up or shut up.  "

"You're forgetting yourself again, Driscoll."

"Ma'am, the Federation has been threatened, bribed, coerced, fooled, and cajoled in the past, but we've always stuck to the moral high ground, ya know?  Practiced what we preached.  But we can't avoid a war with Doom _and_ stay true to our ideals.  If we sign _any_ treaties, we'll have to enter the Drule War.  If it's more important to avoid a war, you might as well issue our recall right now."

Nechayev studied Driscoll a moment.  There was something in the captain's face that made her believe that he truly meant every word he said.  "Captain, do you really think you could defend that wormhole if Doom went to war with us?"

"Yes, ma'am.  And the Voltron Force would help us.  You have my guarantee that no Doom warship will ever threaten the Federation."

Nechayev nodded.  "I'll have to submit this to the Diplomatic Corps and the Federation Council.  Until then, you are to carry on as ordered."

Driscoll nodded.  "Aye, aye."

"Nechayev out."

Driscoll turned off his terminal and flopped back in his chair.  He knew it would be a while before any decision came through.  Until then, it was business as usual.

After hearing the audio feed from the _Berlin_'s encounter with Lotor, Keith, Allura, and Coran had retired to the conference room to discuss the possible ramifications.  Two hours later, Allura left to get ready for her dogfighting practice.

Overall, the general consensus had been one of confidence in the _Berlin_ and her crew, but that sentiment did not hold for the Federation itself.  It was no secret that the Doom military was stronger than the Alliance overall, and if the Federation were looking for assistance in their war, then Doom would be the stronger ally.  Keith and Coran were genuinely concerned that the negotiations would soon fall apart.

But Allura was more optimistic.  She trusted Captain Driscoll, and she knew where he stood.  He had seen first hand what Doom had done to her planet, and she knew his sympathy and assistance could still be counted on.  

She suited up and went to the Control Room to board her Lion.  As she entered the chamber, Lance looked up from the main board.  "Where're you headed, Princess?"

"Going up.  Adam's going to run through some dogfighting tactics with me."

"You clear this with Keith?"

"He's my flight commander, not my father."

Lance nodded approvingly, raising the platform.  "Girl's learning.  Have fun."

Allura nodded.  

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Like what?"  Allura tossed back as she disappeared into the launch tube.

*********************************************************************************************

When Allura got up to altitude, she found herself alone in the vast blue expanse of the Arusian sky.  Whenever she looked down on the rolling, green countryside below her, she found it hard to believe that her planet had been decimated in a rather one-sided war.

Skirting the edge of a cloud, she turned north, and was just leveling out on course when an alarm rang out.  Before she could act, a small craft raced by her, narrowly missing her on the left.  She turned hard to port as a voice filled her cockpit.

"Bet that woke ya up!"

"What…Adam?  What was that?" Allura stammered, recovering from the surprise.

"Lesson number one:  Keep your head on a swivel.  Never let your guard down, _especially_ when you're flying solo.  If I'd been a Doom fighter, you'd be a flaming pile of scrap five miles down," Driscoll said as _Thunderwing _formed up with Blue Lion.

"Okay, point taken.  So where do we begin?"

"After seeing your reaction to my buzz job, I think we'll open with evasive maneuvers.  Breaking, jinking, split-s, etcetera."

"All right."

"One thing I've noticed is that Doom fighters like to use boom-and-zoom tactics.  They come in from altitude, strike, then use power and momentum to climb out.  The best way to evade is with a turn, because they can't turn for shit.  So, I'll play the part of the enemy fighter, and let's see how you do."

"Right.  Ready when you are."

Driscoll turned into the cloud.  "I'm moving into position.  Keep an eye out, 'cause I'm not going to warn you when I attack."

"Copy that."

********************************************************************************************

The pair spent three hours working on maneuvers.  By the end of the practice, Allura was able to evade Driscoll's attacks eighty percent of the time.  Also, she had taken the initiative and begun counter-attacking after the evasion, which impressed the captain.

So, as the sun sank into the west, Driscoll formed up with Allura.  "Okay, Allura.  That was good, but I think that's enough for today."

"All right.  I'll see you at dinner."  Allura twisted the control handles, and Blue Lion turned away from the Mustang and headed for the Castle of Lions.  It took her only a few minutes to land in the moat and return to Castle Control.

"You looked good up there, Allura," Keith said as she emerged from her launch tube.

Allura looked up at him as the launch tubes retracted into the floor, lowering the main console.  He had the chair turned sideways, watching her.  She pulled off her helmet, and for a moment, she saw something in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, and she wondered if she imagined it.

"Are you sure practice is over?"

A look of confusion crossed Allura's face.  "He said so.  Why?"

"Because he's still up there," Keith replied, nodding at the console.

Allura came up behind him and looked over his shoulder.  Sure enough, Allura saw _Thunderwing _on the sensors, circling just above the cloud tops.

As Allura studied the display, Keith was studying Allura.  She was close enough that he could smell the scent of her shampoo, could see every strand of hair.  Her presence was intoxicating to him.

He shook himself out of it.  _Get ahold of yourself.  She's off-limits.  End of story_.  He had made that rule with the others when they first got to Arus.  And as commander, he of all people had to uphold it.

But damn, it was hard.

"Keith, are you all right?"

Keith looked at Allura, who was studying him intently, her concern showing in her eyes.  "Uh, yeah, I'm fine.  Just wondering why he's doing that," he said, pointing absently at the image of the P-51.

Allura nodded.  "Me, too.  Come to think of it, we really don't know anything about him, do we?  In almost a month, he's never told us a thing about himself."

"Well, we know he's the commanding officer of the Federation starship _Berlin_, he flies a P-51 Mustang, he can travel between dimensions, and he's older than Pidge, but younger than me."

"He's younger than you?  I never knew that."

"Well, I think he is, at least."

Allura chuckled.  "I thought you only dealt with facts."

"When they're available.  Sometimes an educated guess is all I've got."

Allura nodded.  "Well, we'll see if we can do more than guess about Adam at dinner."

Keith frowned.  "What?"  
  


"Just leave it to me.  I'll see you later."  Allura turned and walked out of the Control Room, leaving Keith to wonder what she had in mind for their friend at dinner.


	4. Midnight Meeting

_Disclaimer: What's owned by either Paramount or WEP isn't mine.  The rest is._

_Sorry this is taking so long. I just started student teaching, and things are really fouled up.  I'll try to update as often as possible._

_And thanks to everyone who reviewed.  _

Star Tron: Louder Than Words Chapter 4: Midnight Meeting 

The Princess' dinner plans were spoiled that night.  Coran informed her and the others at dinner that Driscoll was busy aboard the _Berlin_ and would not be able to join them.  However, Allura would get another chance to act on her scheme later that night.

Allura awoke with a start.  She'd been having the same nightmare for years.  She dreamt that she was a little girl again, during the Doom invasion.  As her father marched out to face Zarkon at the Valley of Zohar, Coran was taking her down to the bomb shelter beneath the castle.

Suddenly, the stairs beneath her feet disappeared, and she fell into a pit filled with skeletons.  The horror of it always woke her.  She looked at her clock, the red numerals telling her that it was just after 1 AM.

She ran a hand through her sweat-dampened hair, then swung her legs over the edge of the bed.  She rose, put on her robe and slippers, then headed for the kitchen.  Whenever she had a bad dream as a child, her mother always took her to the kitchen, and talked with her over some cookies and milk.  Ever since, she could never get back to sleep without a glass of milk and a few cookies.  It was her ultimate comfort snack.

She stole through the dimly lit corridors, easily avoiding the few patrols that were on duty.  Within a few minutes of leaving her room, she was at the kitchen.  She touched the door control, and it slid open.

"Hey, Allura.  Whassup?"

The voice caught her by surprise.  Glancing over at the counter, she saw Captain Driscoll sitting there, with a plate of leftover food from dinner. 

Recovering from her surprise, she repeated teasingly, "What? No 'Your Highness'?"  Adam usually addressed her by her title.

"Oh, sorry."  The captain set his fork down and rose.  Bowing deeply, he said, "Your Highness honors me with her presence.  Pray, what canst I do for thee?"

Allura pushed him back up.  "Okay, enough.  I was kidding.  It's okay to use my name.  I'd rather all you guys did.  I get so sick of titles.  Especially between my friends and I."

"Yeah, I figured.  But I wanted to err on the side of caution, there.  Wouldn't want to start an interdimensional incident."

Allura went around the kitchen, gathering the cookies, milk, a plate, and a glass, then sat down next to Adam.  "You look like you could use someone to talk to."

Allura saw the concern in his eyes and smiled shyly.  "No, it's okay.  I'm fine."

"Bullshit."  The bluntness of his statement startled the Princess.  "Something's eating you.  Come on.  I'm your wingman, and I'm your friend.  We trust each other with our lives in battle.  Who better to confide in?"

Allura nibbled on a cookie.  "You'd think it's stupid."

"Try me."

"All right, you asked for it."  She told him about the dream, and when she finished, he regarded her sympathetically.

"Jeez, that _is_ nasty."

"It's just…it scares me so much, but I don't' know why.  I've faced death dozens of times, but that dream…"

"Well, there's a lot of powerful memories in there, too, Allura.  I mean, it happens during Zarkon's attack, when your dad was heading out, and he never came back.  Then the castle was attacked…  Now, I'm no shrink…"

"What?" Allura asked, frowning at the unfamiliar word.  She was often confused when the boys used Earth-slang.

"A psychiatrist," Driscoll explained.  "But anyway, it sounds to me like an expression of helplessness.  And I think that's why it scares you so much.  You are an incredibly strong girl, Allura, and you are absolutely fearless, but the one thing you're afraid of is being helpless.  Especially when others need help.  And that's what scares you.  The utter helplessness."

Allura looked at him thoughtfully as she ate another cookie.  "I think you're right," she said finally.  "That is the one thing I really hate, is being helpless."

"I know.  It shows in the way you fly.  That and I've picked up a lot from Keith and them."

"You know, Adam, you know an awful lot about me, but I hardly know anything about you.  Why is that?"

"You never asked?"

Allura didn't believe it.  Was it that simple?  He was waiting for someone to ask?

"I don't talk about myself much," Adam explained.  "I just don't think I'm all that great a topic.  And it's not like we've seen a whole lot of each other off-duty, with me on the big 'B' and you guys down here."

"I see.  Well, can I ask now?"

Driscoll shrugged noncommittally.  "Sure."

"Okay.  Well, where are you from?"

"I live in a town near Buffalo, New York."

"Over in the Starfleet dimension?"

"No.  My home dimension is another one entirely.  At home, it's 1997.  December 14, to be exact."

"You have family there?"

"Oh, yeah.  Mom, step-dad, brother, sister, grandparents, the whole enchilada."  
  


"Must be nice, having such a large family," Allura said wistfully.

"It has its ups and downs."  Adam saw the look of longing in Allura's eyes, and knew she was remembering happier times with her own parents.

After a few minutes, she looked at Adam again.  "Sorry."

He shook his head.  "Nah, it's okay."

"So if you're from 1997, that makes you … nearly four hundred years old!"

"Well, yes and no.  Objectively, yes, but really, I'm only sixteen."

Allura and Adam sat in a comfortable silence for several minutes, eating.  Finally, Allura said, "It must be wonderful.  You're a pilot, the captain of a starship, the power to go anywhere and do anything.  It must be incredible."

"It can be, but it wasn't easy getting here.  I was constantly having to prove myself to one person or another.  My age was always counted against me, and I had to prove that I could do the job.  To Starfleet, to the Force, even to my own crew.  Nobody took me seriously.  It was hell, but in the end, it was worth it.

Allura couldn't believe her ears.  This amazing young man who seemed to have the universe by the undershorts had to prove his competence.  He hadn't just stepped into it.  He had had to earn others' respect and confidence.  Nobody believed in him, until he could prove them wrong.

Just like her.

The realization that he had faced the same challenges as her, and seeing that he had succeeded, stirred something in her.  She was encouraged, and she felt a closer bond with Adam for it.  

Allura smiled at her wingman, and he returned it in full measure.  Their eyes locked, and for a moment, they felt something click, some connection with each other.

And then it was gone.

Adam smiled awkwardly, then rose from the table.  "Well, I oughta get back up there.  Got a lot to do tomorrow."

Allura nodded.  "All right."

"Can I walk you back to your room?"

Allura looked at him a moment, as if not understanding his offer.  Finally, she replied, "Yes, I'd like that."  She got up from the counter and joined him, and the two headed back toward Allura's bedchamber.  Neither one spoke, yet neither felt the need.

As they turned the corner into the hallway where the Princess' suite was, Allura asked, "Why are you here tonight, anyway?"

"Aw, damn, I forgot.  I had to tell Coran, but I was going to tell you and the guys at practice.  Nechayev called.  That's why I missed dinner.  Apparently, President Inyo is sending a delegation to Arus to check things out first hand.  Nechayev herself is coming, with a couple a' more admirals, and two members of the Federation Council.  They'll be here in four days."

"That's…" Allura began.

Just then, Nanny's voice filled the corridor.  "Ach, Princess, what are you doing up so late?  You need your rest."  Then, she saw Adam with Allura, and her anger flared.  "And you!  What are you doing here?  It is not appropriate for you to be alone with the Princess at this ungodly hour!  Especially when she is in her nightclothes.  What are you up to, you scoundrel?"

Driscoll regarded her coolly.  "Ma'am, I'll have you know that I am no scoundrel.  I am a starship captain, and a Lion Knight.  Furthermore, I am an American fighter pilot."  He paused, and a wide grin slowly spread across his face.  "Which makes me the greatest _hooligan_ you ever met!"

Allura had watched the exchange, shocked at first that anyone would stand up to Nanny like that.  But her shock had turned to giggles as Adam turned the tables on the old governess.

For her part, Nanny was nonplussed, her face flushed in anger.  Never had anyone had the gall to speak to her like that.  "I… I… I… you!  You ruffian!  You vagabond!" she sputtered.  "You… you… you hooligan!  Get out!"

Driscoll bowed.  "Thank you, Nanny," he said, still grinning.  He turned to Allura, who was trying to hide her giggles behind her hand.  "I better bail before she has a coronary.  I'll see you at practice, Allura."

"Okay, see you later."

Driscoll nodded and headed off down the hall, leaving a very flustered Nanny and amused Allura behind.


	5. Preparations

_Disclaimer: What's owned by either Paramount or WEP isn't mine.  The rest is.  And thanks to everyone who reviewed.  It  keeps me writing._

_RedLion2-I always looke forward to your feedback.  It's most helpful._

Star Tron: Louder Than Words Chapter 5: Preparations As the Arusian sky began to brighten with the first light of dawn, Allura rose and dressed in her flight suit, then headed for Castle Control. 

When she got there, she was surprised to see Keith talking with Coran, wearing his usul red jumpsuit, rather than his flight suit.  The Voltron Force commander looked up as she approached.  "Practice is cancelled today, Princess."

"Why?"  
  


"Because there's a Federation envoy arriving in four days, Your Highness," Coran said.  "The Commander and I have many arrangements to make."

Allura moved closer to the console, scanning the instruments as she asked, "What do you need me to do?"

"At present, nothing, Your Highness," Coran replied.  "But we will have a better idea of what must be done shortly."

Allura nodded.  "All right, keep me posted."  She decided that if there was nothing to do, she might as well enjoy the morning.  And it wasn't like she didn't have other things to attend to.

After a leisurely bath followed by breakfast with Lance, Hunk, and Pidge, Allura went to her study to review the progress of the various rebuilding projects in the surrounding towns.  She was very proud of the way her people had set about rebuilding Arus after the arrival of the Voltron Force, but she was surprised at how fast the projects were progressing with all the help that the Starfleet people were providing.

It was after noon before she heard anything from Keith.  He summoned her to the Control Room, where she found Coran and Keith discussing something at one of the side consoles.  They looked up and saw her just as two pillars of light shimmered into existence and coalesced into the forms of Captain Driscoll and Commander Gredar.  

"Good, everyone's here," said Keith.

"What's the story?" Driscoll asked.

"I notified Galaxy Garrison about your people coming here," Keith replied.

"And what did the Garrison say?" Allura asked.

"Space Marshall Graham himself will be coming here," Coran replied.  "Along with two members of the Alliance Senate.  They want to have the treaty ready to sign by the time they arrive."

"What?" Driscoll gasped.  The look on his face was one of utter disbelief.

"That would be difficult," said Gredar.  "We have not even addressed all areas of concern."

"You must understand, Commander, that Marshall Graham and the Alliance Senate are anxious to reach a formal agreement with the Federation."

"So they're just going over our heads?" said Driscoll.  "Coran, Nechayev and those guys aren't coming to negotiate a treaty.  They're here to see how things are for themselves.  It's an inspection tour, not a diplomatic envoy."

"I realize that, Captain," said Coran.  "But Marshall Graham was adamant about that point."

"Great.  So we've gotta frame up a major treaty within four days?"

"Apparently so, Captain," Gredar replied.

"I'm sorry, Adam.  I told them it was just an inspection, but they want to meet with Admiral Nechayev and your Council members to talk about the treaty," Keith said.

"The military aid, thing?" Driscoll asked.

Keith nodded.

"Dammit.  Okay, so we've gotta put up four different versions of this treaty by what? Saturday?" Driscoll asked.

"That is the Terran equivalent, yes," said Coran.

"Great.  So what do we do?" said Adam.

Coran cleared his throat.  "I would suggest that we meet in an hour to discuss the treaty," said Coran, already slipping into "diplomacy" mode.  "I'll have Nanny start working on the appropriate preparations here."

Allura nodded, while Keith, Adam, and Gredar voiced their agreement.  Then she excused herself and headed toward her room, but she wasn't alone.

"Hey, Allura!  Hold up!"

She turned and saw Adam jogging up behind her.  He fell into step beside her and asked, "Do you believe this?"

"I've seen worse," she admitted.

Adam sighed, and looked her in the eyes.  "Listen, about last night…"

Allura stopped and looked at him.  "I hope you're not about to apologize," she said, an edge of anger creeping into her voice.  "Because if you or anyone else apologizes for some assumed impropriety one more time…"

Adam held up his hands defensively.  "Uh, no, and I'll remember not to.  What I wanted to ask was if you were okay.  After that dream and all."

"Oh," Allura said, and the two resumed walking.  "In that case, yes, I am, thank you.  And you were right.  I did need someone to talk to.  Thanks."

"Hey, what are friends for?  By the way, how peeved is Nanny?"

"Well, I'd steer clear of her for a while, if I were you."

"So she was royally pissed, huh?"

"I haven't seen her that mad since Lance came to dinner in his boxers."

"What?  Oh, man.  I oughta add a mark to my fuselage for that one."

The two arrived at her door, and Allura stopped and faced him.  "I think Nanny's in there, so maybe you should leave before _you_ become a mark on _her _fuselage."

"Point taken.  See you later."

"Bye," Allura replied, watching him disappear around a corner before entering her room.

Down the hall, Lance shook his head.  _Oh, boy, Keith, you've got competition._

***********************************************************************************************

On Planet Doom, Zarkon sat, as usual, atop his throne, looking down at his son below.  In the shadows at the far side of the room, Haggar stood, the green glow of her eyes and those of her blue cat being the only things that betrayed her presence.

"It would seem that the Federation has rejected your offer, Lotor," said Zarkon.

"What do you mean, Father?  They haven't replied."

"Didn't you read the intelligence report I sent you?  Perhaps if you spent less time with your harem, you'd be more attentive to your responsibilities.  How do you ever expect to become king?"

Zarkon's remark cut deep, causing Lotor to sneer at his father in anger and disgust.  

When Lotor didn't reply, Zarkon continued.  "There is to be a meeting on Arus in a few days between the Federation and the Galaxy Alliance.  They will be signing their treaty."

"It cannot be," Lotor said incredulously.  "Father, I warned them not to, and those weaklings couldn't possibly have the gall to defy me so blatantly."

"Perhaps they are not so weak as you assume.  But if you warned them of the consequences, then you must follow through."

"I will, Father.  They will learn the price of defying us."

Zarkon paused.  Same speech, different day.  He turned to Haggar.  "And I assume you have something that will help?"

"Indeed, sire," the witch replied, stepping forward into the light.  "I have analyzed the way the Federation ship fights, and my newest robeast is designed to counter it."

"Good, Haggar.  I don't have to tell you that the _Berlin_ must be destroyed, and her captain must die, along with the Voltron Force."

"No, sire.  And you may rest assured that they will soon meet their fate."

"Good.  Go now, and draw your plans."

Lotor and Haggar bowed and left, and Zarkon was alone.

These new developments troubled him.  At present, Doom had no way to defend against a threat like the Federation.  There were projects in development, but they were still in the planning stages.

The key, he knew, would be to try to arrange a separate peace with the Federation, or at least a nonaggrassion agreement.  But if the Federation entered the war against Doom, the outcome would be mixed at best.  But if they could be stalled somehow, kept at bay, Doom could gain an advantage.

For now, he would let Lotor have his fun.  There were ways he could turn that to his advantage.  But he could no longer be secure in his dominance of the Denubian Galaxy.  He would have to be more cautious, and take greater pains to secure his empire and its influence.

The next four days, he knew, would change the fortunes of the Doom Empire, and possibly the Drule Empire as well.  But how, not even Haggar could tell.

**********************************************************************************************

Pidge's eyes scanned back and forth across the panel in front of him.  He had the afternoon shift in Castle Control, and as he monitored the sensors and communications system, he worked on tracking down a minor glitch in Yellow Lion's navigational computer.  For some reason, the computer kept omitting Pollux from its star charts.

Normally, Coran would be on duty now.  He liked to run Castle Control during the day, with one of the Force members assisting, then the guys would rotate on watch after dinner until practice the next morning.

But Coran, Keith and Allura had been busy during the past two days.  They, along with Captain Driscoll and Commander Gredar had worked long and hard from just after sunrise until late into the night, and they were well into it today.  Keith had thus far cancelled practice for an unheard-of three days in a row.  Not that that was hard to understand.  Pidge had seen all three of them as they shuffled out of the conference room yesterday.  He couldn't tell about Gredar, but the humans definitely looked exhausted.  Allura had even given Adam a room to use after Lance discovered the captain asleep on the sofa in the lounge.  As far as he knew, Adam hadn't been back to the _Berlin_ since the afternoon that Keith told him Graham was coming.

Pidge scanned the instruments again.  No comms, and nothing out there but the _Berlin_.  Really, he didn't even need to watch the sensors, because the Federation ship would always alert them to incoming raids, even though they never interfered.

Hearing the hourly chime, he thought, _Three bells, and all's well._

As the echo from the last chime died away, Allura walked in, wearing her flight suit, followed by Adam and Keith.

"How's it going?" Pidge asked.

"We're finished," Allura replied.

"Finally," Adam added, rolling his eyes.  "God, I wonder if Sarek ever had to deal with this kind of pressure.  Aw, hell, he was a Vulcan.  It wouldn't have bothered him."

"Who's Sarek?" Pidge asked.

"Later.  Am I clear for a beam-up?" Adam asked.

"Uh, yeah, sure.  Where's Gredar and Coran?"

"Coran went to lie down," said Keith.  "He's exhausted."

"And I sent Gredar to touch base with the ground crews working on the towns.  The brass is gonna wanna see some of that, so we need to know where to take 'em."

"Pidge, Lance will be up to relieve you in an hour," said Keith. 

"Gotcha, Keith."

"Can you raise the launch tubes, please, Pidge?" Allura asked.

"Sure, Princess.  You going up?"

Allura smiled.  "Yeah.  Adam and I are going to practice dogfighting again," she said enthusiastically.  For a second, Keith felt a pang of jealousy for all the time Adam was spending with the Princess, but it passed quickly as his soldierly instincts suppressed it.

Pidge smiled back at her and touched a control, raising the console and exposing the launch tubes.

Once Allura was gone, Adam tapped his badge.  "Driscoll to _Berlin_, one to beam directly to the shuttlebay."

"_Acknowledged.  Stand by_."

"Later, fellas," Adam said with a wave.  "_Berlin_, Energize."  A moment later, he disappeared in a shimmering column of light.

"You look beat, Keith," said Pidge.

"Yeah.  Diplomacy's not easy.  What's going on up here?"

"Not a thing, unless you count the mice trying to steal my sandwich.  That Cheddar's getting tricky.  Besides that, I've almost got Hunk's navicomputer problem figured out.  Looks like a recurrent problem in the orbital calculator.  It keeps misaligning the orbital trajectory of Pollux, so it doesn't' register in the primary display pallet or factor into the astronavigation computation cycle."

"Uh, yeah. Great."  Keith absorbed only a little of what Pidge had just said.  He was competent enough with computers, but parts and programs were Pidge's specialty.  That kid had probably forgotten more about computers than he'd ever learn.

Just then, Lance walked in.  "I just saw the two-legged crocodile in the hall.  You guys done?"

"Yep.  All four versions are final.  Coran's going to have them printed up overnight, and they'll be ready for the higher-ups to decide on the starbase and military aid issues.  And I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't call Commander Gredar a 'two-legged crocodile'.  Adam warned me that Gorn don't appreciate being compared to Earth reptiles."

"Yeah, sure, Skipper."  Lance turned to Pidge.  "You can go if you want.  I'll take over."

"You sure?  You're an hour early."

"Yeah, no problem.  You can owe me later if I need an early out."

"You got it," Pidge replied.  The boy made a final check of the monitors, then left.

Keith looked Lance over suspiciously.  He knew Lance well enough that it was impossible for the lieutenant to fool him when he was up to something.  And he was up to something right now.  "What are you planning?"

Lance held up h is hands innocently.  "Nothing."

"Why do you need Pidge to owe you an hour?"

"I don't.  What's wrong with getting a little ahead?  So if something does come up…"

"Blond or Brunette?" Keith asked.

Lance covered his chest with a hand, as though he'd been stabbed.  "Aw, Keith, I'm hurt."

Keith gave Lance a skeptical look.  "Yeah, sure you are.  Which one?"

"If you must know, she's a redhead."

"Lance…" Keith said in exasperation.  He'd warned all the guys to be careful of romantic entanglements, because of their celebrity status.  They had to play it straight and clean, since they were in the public eye.  Yet Lance still managed to have a different girl every month or two.  Luckily, there hadn't been any problems yet.

"Keith, you don't have to worry.  It's all totally clean.  Everything's on the up and up."

"Good,  make sure it stays that way."  He glanced at the clock.  "I'm going to get a shower before dinner.  Call me if anything happens."

"Will do, Keith," Lance replied.  Keith turned and headed out the door while lance settled into the watch.


	6. The Secret of Thunderwing

_Disclaimer: What's owned by either Paramount or WEP isn't mine.  The rest is.  Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental._

Star Tron: Louder Than Words Chapter 6: The Secret of _Thunderwing_

Captain Driscoll pulled out of his reentry dive at 70,000 feet, and descended to 50,000, where he was supposed to rendezvous with Allura, but there was no sign of her.  So, he began to circle the area in a slow, left turn.

Suddenly, he saw a flash out of the corner of his eye.  Instinctively, he rolled into a split-S, simultaneously arming his phasers, activating his gunsight and turning on his battle music.  Pulling out of his dive, he rolled in on his attacker, rockin' and ready to fire.  At the last second, he broke off, realizing he'd lined up Blue Lion in his sight.

"You're not the only one who can sneak up on people, Adam" Allura said, grinning proudly.

"Apparently not," Adam replied, safetying his guns.  "Well, done, Allura, good bounce, but you almost got blasted.  Next time, announce yourself after you buzz me, okay?"

"All right," said Allura.  "So what are we doing today?"

"Well, I wanted to show you some offensive tactics, like wingovers, up-and-unders, and overheads.  After that, I was thinking just free-fight."

Allura nodded.  "Right.  I'll follow your lead."

Driscoll smiled.  "Well, you can try."

*********************************************************************************************

Aboard the _Berlin, _Lt. Cdr. Jacobs sat in the command chair, scanning lazily across the bridge.  She had pretty much been in charge of the ship for the past two days, while Driscoll and Gredar were on Arus working on the treaty.

She heard the turbolift doors open behind her, and a moment later, Captain Scott settled into the engineering station.

Jacobs got up and walked over to him asking, "What brings you to the bridge, Scotty?"  
  


Scott glanced up at her as she stood beside him.  "In all honesty, Commander, the boredom.  We' been in station-keeping for the last three weeks now, and there's only so much I can do in engineering."

"I know what you mean.  But can't you maybe tweak the engines a little or something?"

"I've already tweaked the bloody things!  I've adjusted and upgraded until I was blue in the face.  There's just nothing more to do.  We've even overhauled the damn shuttles."

"What about the Skipper's plane?"

Scotty looked at her like she'd just sprouted two more heads.  "I'm not _that_ desperate, lass.  One of my lads tried to, and the Captain tore 'im apart.  He doesn't let _anybody_ touch that bloody fighter of 'is."

"So I've heard."

"Aye, he's a strange one.  A fine officer, but when it comes to that plane…"

"Uh-huh.  Well, enjoy your technical manuals."

"I always do."

Jacobs returned to the command chair and flopped down, thinking about how the crew was becoming restless.  They needed some action.

What she didn't realize was how soon her wish would be granted, or how much she would regret it.

***********************************************************************************************

Adam and Allura spent two hours going over offensive tactics, then another thirty minutes dogfighting.  Adam was highly impressed with how readily Allura was able to adapt the maneuvers and tactics to Blue Lion's abilities and her own flying style.  In his estimate, with a little more instruction, her dogfighting performance would be nearly up to spec with the rest of the team.  From there, it would be just a matter of practice.

Allura had a natural talent for flying.  But like most people, a strict, military regimen didn't often afford her opportunities to explore her skills and expand her ability.  That was one of the reasons she looked forward to these practices with Adam.  She could concentrate on just flying, and not have to worry about formations or objectives.  That was what she enjoyed the most.

Finally, the exhaustion of the past two days started catching up to her.  She pulled into a slow turn, saying, "Okay, Adam, let's call it a day."

"Roger that, forming up."

As _Thunderwing_ took up position on her eight o'clock, Allura scanned her instruments, then looked around.  Just as she was finishing her visual scan, she saw two objects diving on _Thunderwing_.  "Adam, break left!" she called, guiding Blue Lion into a sharp right turn.

Coming around, she saw two Doom fighters behind the Mustang.  "Adam, you've got two on your tail."

"I know," he replied as he weaved back and forth.  "Get 'em off me!"

"Dive out."

_Thunderwing_ rolled and dove, followed by the fighters and Blue Lion.  Pulling out of the dive, the P-51 broke hard, giving Allura a clear shot.  Blue Lion pounced, shredding the fighters with two strikes of its electro-claws.

"Thanks, Allura."

"You're welcome, Dinoman," Allura replied, using Driscoll's callsign.

Suddenly, Adam yelled, "Allura!  Four bandits on your six!"

Allura pulled Blue Lion into a jump-turn as _Thunderwing _came in on a firing pass, sending one fighter down in flames and damaging another.

The other two looped around and made a head-on attack on _Thunderwing_, scoring hits on the left wing and tail.  The string of curses that came over her radio made Allura cringe, and the loud rock music did nothing to cover it.  She'd heard some crude language out of Lance before, but Adam took it to a whole new level.  The Mustang broke hard left, pursuing the two fighters.  Allura joined up beside him, and the two each downed one of the fighters.

"Yeah!  Suck that you mother…"

"Adam!" Allura cut in.  "Is that it?"

She saw him look around.  "I think so.  I don't see anybody, and my sensors are clear.  You?"

"Same here.  Nothing on sensors, nothing in sight."

As they resumed their formation and headed for the castle, Lance hailed them.  "Control to Blue Lion."

"What is it, Lance?" Allura asked.

"I had some blips on the radar in you area, and one headed for space.  Is everything okay?"

"It is now," Allura replied.

"Lance, have Pidge check those sensors.  We just got jumped by six Stinger-class fighters," said Adam.

"Hang on, we're coming."

"It's already over, Lance," said Allura.

"Allura scored three kills and saved my butt.  I've got two and one damaged," Adam reported.  "We're heading home."

"Roger.  See you when you get back, then."

"Right.  And have the repair bay ready.  Adam took a few hits," said Allura.

"I thought he said you saved his butt?"

"She did, but they still got a piece a' me," said Adam.

"Understood, Control out."

They flew in silence for a few minutes, then Adam said, "Thanks for the cover, Allura."

"Hey, what're friends for?" Allura replied, parroting one of the captain's lines.

"Yeah, but that was really impressive flying.  Well done."

"Thanks," said Allura.  "How bad are you hit?"

"It ain't too bad.  One damaged phaser, a few burns.  Can't see anything else."

"They hit behind your cockpit, too, near the star."

"Can you take a look?"

"Sure."  Allura maneuvered over to _Thunderwing_'s port side and closed in.  There was a large burn running from the back of the big, white star on the fuselage down to the wing.  The paint was charred, but there didn't seem to be much else wrong.  "Looks all right.  Just a little burned."

"Thanks.  I'm not getting any Damage indicators, just shields, and they'll recharge."

"Good.  From the language you were using, I though it was bad."

"Well, you'd be swearing, too, if you spent as much time working on Blue as I do with _Thunderwing_.  And this is custom paint, too!"

He and Allura shared a laugh, and spent the rest of the flight reviewing the battle.

**********************************************************************************************

Driscoll and Gredar dined at the Castle of Lions that evening with the Voltron Force, discussing their plans for tomorrow.  Nanny expressed her displeasure that Allura had been bounced, laying the blame squarely on Driscoll.  He listened politely to her lecture, but said nothing until Nanny asked him, "Why don't you take over flying that Lion and let the Princess get on to more important things?"

Keith rolled his eyes and Coran coughed, but said nothing.  This debate had been had before, and was not over.  It was a constant bone of contention with nanny.  However, the Force was surprised that Nanny would mention it to the captain.

"Two reasons," Driscoll replied.  "One, Her Highness doesn't want to stop flying.  Two, I like my plane better."

Allura smiled her thanks, and Lance flashed Adam a surreptitious thumbs-up.  For her part, Nanny just huffed, and said nothing.

After dinner, everyone went their own ways to prepare for the arrival of the envoys tomorrow.  

Hunk headed for the repair bay to get some things he'd left there.  Walking through the extra-wide double-doors, he saw _Thunderwing_ parked at the far end of the bay.  Adam was standing on the port wing, pulling on one of the phasers.

"Want a hand?" Hunk asked.

"Nah, I got it, Hunk.  Thanks."

Hunk walked over to the plane for a closer look.  Several tools were laid out on the wing, and Adam was struggling to remove a phaser unit that looked like a genuine Browning M2 machine gun.  "That thing shoot bullets?"

"No, it's a phaser.  I just took a fifty-cal frame and packed the phaser guts inside.  I like everything to look like a vintage Mustang.  I haven't gotten around to the engine yet, though."

"You sure you don't need a hand?"

"Yes, Hunk, I'm fine, thank you," Adam replied, but with a slight edge to his voice.

Hunk studied him a moment.  If he didn't know better, he'd say Adam was angered by his offer.

"Okay.  Can I help with something else?  Maybe fix the paint while you work on the phaser?"

Now Adam looked up at him and spoke very slowly, ask though addressing a child.  "No.  Hunk.  I've.  Got it.  Okay?"

Hunk saw where the phaser was stuck and reached up and pulled it loose.  The weapon popped free, and a piece on the side fell off as Driscoll tumbled off the wing backwards, landing hard on his back.

"Adam! You okay?"

Adam scrambled to his feet and glared at Hunk.  "Goddammit, Hunk!  What part of 'I've got it' don't you understand?" he roared.

Hunk held up his hands.  "Jeez, sorry.  I was just trying…"

Driscoll walked up to him, fists clenched.  "Didn't I make myself clear enough?  Do _NOT_ touch my plane!  I'll take care of her."

"Man, calm down.  Listen…"  Suddenly, Adam swung and connected with Hunk's chin.  The big man's head whipped around, but he wasn't hurt.  Hunk backed off.  "Whoa, calm down.  If it means that much, I'll leave.  Sorry."  He was mad as hell, but he'd learned to keep his temper in check.  A man of his size could do a lot of damage.  He was willing to chalk up Adam's behavior to the stress of the past few days, but he and the starship captain were going to have words about this one.

**********************************************************************************************

Keith and Allura walked into the repair bay about an hour after Hunk ha told them about the incident with Adam.  Keith had wanted to have it out with the captain, but Allura had persuaded him to take a less confrontational approach.

Driscoll had apparently finished with the phaser, and was now buffing the wing.  Allura and Keith walked up to the side of the plane, near the flap.  "Adam?"

"Yeah, Keith?" he replied coolly.

"What happened between you and Hunk?"

"Dude can't take a hint.  I told him I didn't want help, but he wouldn't listen.  "I had to replace that whole phaser."

"So you slugged him?"

"Keith, I told him three times that I didn't need help.  So he rips the phaser out of its mounting!  I mean, how thick…"

"Hey!  Watch it, Adam."

"Nobody couches my plane, Keith, not even Scotty.  Nobody touches her, nobody flies her."

Allura saw anger in Adam's eyes as he spoke to Keith.  But there was something else, too.  There was pain.  And sadness.

"Why, Adam?" she asked.  "Why is that?"

"Because I said so," he replied evasively, concentrating on his work.

"That's not good enough," Keith growled.  Angry as much at how Adam spoke to Allura as with his answer.  "I need to know what's so special about this plane.  I don't' understand…"

"That's right, you don't!" Adam exploded.  "You don't understand what it's like to watch your friend go Roman candle across the sky, burned alive before he even hit the ground, all because some lunkhead…" he choked on the word, and dropped the shammy he was using.  He sat on the wing as Allura stepped closer.  She saw the tears in his eyes.

"Adam?  What happened?"

He shook his head, hoping she would take the hint, but she stood there, waiting.

Finally, he looked, up.  "It was…three years ago.  I had a friend, Tom Geilin, and we used to fly together.  He had this little Cessna, and we'd go up together, flying.

"One day, his…his mechanic didn't' come in, so they sent another guy to work on his plane.  The idiot didn't know shit about planes like Tom's.  One of Tom's fuel lines needed replacing, but the asshole didn't do it right.  They didn't have the right kind of tubing, but rather than flag it and wait until they had the right stuff, he used something else.  

"When Tom and me went up, the fuel line melted, and the gas sprayed all over the engine, and that thing lit up.  I could hear Tom screaming on the radio.  Then the flames hit the fuel tank…"

Adam paused, regaining his composure.  "An that son of a bitch only got fired.  He killed Tom, and he got away with it.

"Since then, I've never let anybody work on my plane.  Nobody.  I don't trust anyone.  And now, there's so much custom equipment on her, I'm the only one who really can do it right."

Allura looked at him.  "I'm sorry, Adam.  I had no idea."

"No, and I wish you still didn't.  I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to gush like that."

Keith, who had been ready to read Adam the riot act, studied the Starfleet captain critically, then said, "Why not just tell us?"

"What would you have respected more, the cocky flyboy who's touchy about his ride, or the paranoid nerd who's scared to death of somebody screwing up?"

Keith nodded.  "The cocky flyboy."

"Well, anyway, now you know.  I didn't mean to hit Hunk.  I just kinda lost it."

Adam slid off the wing and stood with Keith and Allura.  The Princess laid a hand on Keith's arm.  He tensed at her touch and glanced at her, then looked back at the Mustang driver.  "I understand why you did what you did, but you still owe Hunk an apology, at least.  As for the rest of it…"

"It won't go beyond us," Allura cut in.  Keith nodded.

Adam nodded.  "Thanks."

"You're gonna have to get over this, Adam.  If you're going to be in combat with us and on your ship, sooner or later, someone else is going to have to work on her, and maybe fly her, too, if you can't."

"Adam realized that Keith was right, but the thought stirred his memories again.  What if…

"I'd suggest you train someone.  Either here or on your ship.  But make sure someone knows how to take care of this plane.  I know Hunk would be interested."

The captain nodded.  "Yeah, probably."

"Now get this thing fixed up.  You want your commander to see this beat up old hunk of scrap next to the Lions tomorrow?" Keith asked.

"No, sir."

Keith nodded, and he and Allura left the repair bay.  Just before he stepped through the doors, though, Keith turned.  "And Adam?"

"Yeah?"

"I do understand what it's like."

From the repair bay, Keith headed toward Castle Control, and Allura accompanied him.  "Poor Adam," she said.  "I had no idea."

"That does explain a few things," Keith replied.  "But he's got to learn to trust people."

"And you were going to yell at him."

"That was before.  I'm not heartless, Allura.  Strict, yes, demanding…"

"Overcautious," Allura added.

"There's no such thing," Keith replied.  "But I'm not heartless.  That could screw anybody up.  It's a wonder he was still flying after that."

The two walked in silence for a few minutes until they arrived in Castle Control.  Hunk was on duty and he was talking to Lance.  Both looked up as Keith and Allura approached.  "Well?" Hunk asked.

"It's taken care of, Hunk," Keith said.  "Adam says he'd like to apologize to you."

"Yeah, tomorrow."

"That kid's too hotheaded for is own good," said Lance.

"There's the pot calling the kettle," said Keith.

"At least I don't _fly_ the kettle," Lance said with a smirk.

"Are you making insinuations about my Lion?" 

"Boys," Allura cut in.  "Calm down.  Settle this _after_ the conference."

"Yeah, you're right, Allura," said Lance.  "I'm going to bed.  See you guys tomorrow."

"Practice tomorrow, usual time," said Keith.

Allura couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard Lance mutter an off-color comment about Keith's mother as he left the chamber.


	7. Crashing the Party

Disclaimer: What's owned by either Paramount or WEP isn't mine.  The rest is.  All other standard disclaimers apply.

Star Tron: Louder Than Words Chapter 7: Crashing the Party 

Lion practice the next morning was short, consisting only of basic maneuvers and combat tactics.  After practice, the Lions and _Thunderwing_ landed at the airfield near the Castle of Lions, which a mixed crew of Arusian and Starfleet engineers had quickly fixed up over the past few days, improving it from barely serviceable to a respectable landing field.

It was a long, low structure about forty feet high, almost a mile long, and over 1000 feet wide at its widest point.  The top surface was the actual landing field, and there was a boxy tower on one side.  A hangar bay below the runway was accessed by two elevators and a staircase in the tower.  The hangar bay was large enough to accommodate over seventy fighters in individual hardstands.  A third level underground housed a power station, storage areas, and crew habitation areas, as well as operations rooms an crew amenities.

With his plane parked on the planet below, Captain Driscoll beamed up to his ship to await the arrival of Admiral Nechayev and her party.  As he scanned the bridge, he noticed that all of the senior staff were there, including Scotty and the Sheik.

Finally, Mordock called out, "Captain, wormhole activity.  There is a ship coming through."

"Identify."

"Federation signature,_ Steamrunner_-class.  NCC-51597.  U.S.S. _Farallon_."

"The _Farallon_ is hailing," said Jacobs.

"Onscreen," Driscoll ordered.

On the _Berlin_'s viewer, the star-speckled blackness of space was replaced by the face of Fleet Admiral Alynna Nechayev on the bridge of the _Farallon_.  "Captain Driscoll."

"Admiral," Driscoll replied with a nod.  "Welcome to the Denubian Galaxy."

"Thank you.  Has the Alliance delegation arrived yet?"

Driscoll glanced at Mordock.  "There is an Alliance star cruiser coming into sensor range.  They should be here within an hour," the Benzite told him.

Driscoll turned back to Nechayev.  "One hour, Admiral."

"Very well.  I take it you've planned our itinerary?"

"Yes, ma'am.  I'll have it sent through immediately."

"Good.  In that case, I'll see you in an hour.  Nechayev out."

*********************************************************************************************

The Alliance vessel arrived right on time.  Space Marshall Graham himself hailed the _Berlin_, identifying his ship as the A.S.V. _Unity_.

The _Unity_ was smaller than the Federation ships, comparable in size to an _Intrepid_-class ship.  Graham's party consisted of himself and Senators Ulrich and Matheson.  They were beamed over to the _Berlin_, where they met with Driscoll and Nechayev, Admirals Soval and Popovitch, and Councillors White and T'Pren.

After introductions were made, the group toured the _Berlin_ and then the _Unity_, before shuttling down to Arus.  Driscoll beamed down, so that he would be in position for the brass and diplomats to review the Voltron Force and their craft.

As the shuttles from the _Berlin_ and the _Unity_ set down, the Voltron Force snapped to attention and saluted as the officers disembarked.  The five Alliance pilots saluted Roman-style, with their right hands across their chests, palm-down.  Driscoll, wearing his leather jacket over his uniform, saluted in the standard fashion, touching his brow.  

From the landing field, the group went to a nearby village, where the Princess led them through the oldest parts, telling of the horrors of Zarkon's invasion, and how the survivors fled underground and stayed there for eleven years.  Then they came to a block that was being rebuilt.  The townspeople were working on building homes and store, schools and offices.  Some of their materials were of the traditional variety, stone and wood worked with hammers and chisels, held by nails and mortar. 

But with them went many synthetic products.  Windows of transparent aluminum, solid fiber insulation, superconducting cables.  The people working with these used laser welders and graviton mallets, antigrav lifts and self-sealing stem bolts.

And among the townsfolk, Starfleet engineers roamed.  Some provided advice on planning, while others helped lift beams into place.  The scene was one of two cultures coming together for a common purpose.

The sun was high in the sky when the group finished the tour of the village and headed for a local inn for lunch.

Allura had made special arrangements with the innkeeper and the group found a modest but attractive spread of cold cuts, cheeses, breads, vegetables, and other luncheon foods laid out for them in a quiet back room.  Everyone filled their plates and took a seat at a long dining table, with the Federation people along one side, the Alliance delegation and the Voltron Force on the other, Allura at the head, and Driscoll at the foot.

For a while, conversation centered on observations from the tours of the ships and the village, and how the Lions and _Thunderwing_ had been keeping Zarkon and Lotor at bay.  But, inevitably, talk turned to the final sticking point in the treaty.

"What you have done to help the people of Arus is wonderful indeed," said Senator Ulrich to the Starfleeters.  "But one cannot help but wonder how much more could be done with a full political and military alliance."

Driscoll was about to reply, when Admiral Popovitch cut him off.  "Senator, the Federation does not provide military aid to anyone without an existing state of war.  We have no quarrel with your enemies."

"And we are, ourselves, at war," said Councillor T'Pren.  "What military resources we have are fully employed in the defense of the Federation."

"Yet you have allowed the _Berlin_ to remain," said Senator Matheson.

"The _Berlin_ is a science vessel, part of the reserve fleet.  She has little tactical value," said Popovitch.

Matheson snorted.  "I wish the Alliance had more ships of so 'little tactical value'."

"Senator Matheson, the Federation is a benevolent organization," said Admiral Soval.  "We do not place an emphasis on military strength, as you seem to."

"Yet you are asking us to let you build bases and shipyards in our space," said Ulrich.  He leaned closer over the table.  "We are not asking you to fight our battles for us.  We simply need help.  Most of our forces are tied up fighting the Drules, and Zarkon's forces are raiding Alliance worlds in this galaxy almost unopposed.  The greater part of our strength in this region is represented at this table," he added, gesturing to the people around him.

"We sympathize, Senator.  Really, we do," said Councillor White.  "But we cannot, nor will we, provide military aid to the Alliance without a state of war existing between the Doom Empire and the United Federation of Planets.  We'll gladly send all th humanitarian aid you need, but. . ."

Just then, Nechayev's badge chirped.  "Farallon _to Nechayev_."

"Go ahead."

"_We're under attack_!  _Large Doom raiding force is_. . ."  the transmission ended in a burst of static.

The group raced out of the inn to see people running for cover as the first Doom fighters zoomed low overhead, opening fire on buildings near the edge of town.

Driscoll slapped his badge.  "Driscoll to _Berlin_, report!"

"_Singh here, sir.  They came from the far side of the planet.  The _Farallon_ is disabled and adrift.  And this robeast is coming after us with a vengeance_."

"Understood.  Prepare to open the aft shields.  I'm on my way up."

"Coran says there's a squadron of fighters attacking us, and the _Berlin_'s fighting a robeast," Keith said as he pocketed his communicator.  "The other ship's adrift."

"Yeah, Keith, I know," Driscoll said tensely, watching the fighters."  Suddenly, one of the fighters flew by very low, buzzing them, then slowly looping around and lining up for an attack.

"Take cover!" Graham yelled.

The group dove into an alley beside the inn just as the ruby laser beam tore into the corner where they had been standing moments before.

"Everyone okay?" Keith asked as the dust settled.

"Yes, I think so," Nechayev replied.  She looked around, counting heads.  Then she counted again.  One short.  Admiral Popovitch wasn't there.

"Where's the other Admiral?" Pidge asked, picking up on Nechayev's intense scanning.

"Over there!" said Matheson, pointing to the street.

Admiral Popovitch lay on the far side of the street.  His left arem was bent at an odd angle, and there was a small trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.

Nechayev and the Starfleeters ran to him, Driscoll pulling his sidearm from his shoulder holster beneath his jacket, a phaser pistol designed like a Colt .45.  He scanned the sky as T'Pren checked Popovitch.

"Don't bother, he's gone," said Nechayev.  They all looked down, and saw a gaping hole in his right side, blood pooled on the street beneath him.

"Incoming!" Ulrich warned.  Another fighter had spotted them.  Driscoll fired at it, distracting the pilot, which gave the others time to find cover.

Everyone ducked back into the alley as the fighter zoomed past, its lasers tearing up the ground beside Popovitch's body.  

"We've gotta get to the Lions, Keith," said Lance.

"I know.  Allura, you take the others back to the castle.  Me, Lance, Hunk, Pidge, and Adam will cover you."

"Let her go, Commander," said Graham.  "I'll get these folks to the castle.  You'll need the Princess anyway.  Driscoll has to look after his ship."

"Yeah," said Driscoll.  "Admiral, I'll beam you and the Councillors aboard the _Berlin_ ASAP."

"Don't worry about us.  Go help the _Farallon_."

"Aye, sir," Driscoll replied, tossing off a crisp salute.  Nechayev returned it as the Voltron Force left the alley and headed for the landing field.


	8. The Camel's Back is Broken

Disclaimer: What's owned by either Paramount or WEP isn't mine.  The rest is.  All other standard disclaimers apply.

Star Tron: Louder Than Words Chapter 8: The Camel's Back Breaks 

Lieutenant-Commander Tina Jacobs grabbed hold of her console as the robeast attacked again, launching a volley of missiles at the _Berlin_.  The ship shook violently, and Gredar hissed, "Report!"

"Shields at seventy percent.  Minor structural damage on decks seven and thirteen," Jacobs replied.

"Return fire," Gredar ordered.

Jacobs complied, launching a four-torpedo spread at the robeast, which dodged three of them.  The fourth struck it in the leg, spinning it around, but it recovered.

The robest resembled a large, green, humanoid lobster, with muscular legs and arms equipped with massive pincers.  One blow from those pincers had shattered the _Farallon_'s starboard nacelle, leaving the starship helpless and adrift, leaving a glowing trail of plasma behind it.

The assault force had masked its approach by staying behind Arus and out of the starships' sight.  The robeast caught the two ships off guard.  In a moment of confusion, though, it misidentified its target, attacking the _Farallon_ instead of the _Berlin_.  This allowed the _Excelsior_-class ship to raise its shields and counterattack, drawing the robeast's attention away from the defenseless _Farallon_.

But this robeast was tough.  It was able to evade most of the starship's attacks, or else it curled up, taking the hits on its thickly armored carapace.

The robeast clicked its claws and prepared for another strike, when _Thunderwing_ came out of nowhere, strafing the robeast across its face.

The distracted creature lunged at the fighter, forgetting the starship for a moment.  

"Commander," Gredar hissed.

"On it," Jacobs replied.  "Firing."

A barrage of phaser and torpedo fire caught the robeast full on its unprotected belly, sending it tumbling.

"_Nice shot, T.J_.,' said Driscoll.  "_Now lower the shields.  I'm coming aboard_."

"Captain, the tractor beams are damaged.  We can't guide you in," said Singh.

"_No problem.  Just open the doors.  _Thunderwing _on final._"

Jacobs and Singh complied, watching their boards tensely as the Mustang approached the ship on manual control.  But, true to his word, Driscoll brought his plane in for an easy three-point landing.

A few moments later, Driscoll arrived on the bridge, still wearing his leather jacket.  "Report!"

"Shields holding at seventy percent.  Damage on decks seven and thirteen," Jacobs replied.

Driscoll looked at the viewer and saw the robeast recover from its tumble.  It moved slowly, as though in pain, then launched a missile attack from tubes in its tail.  Driscoll had just gotten to his chair as the ship lurched under the impact of the missiles.

"Shields at sixty-eight percent, minor hull breach on deck thirteen," Singh reported.

"Mike, come right to course one-seven-seven.  Impulse power, all ahead one-half," Driscoll ordered.  "Give us some space.  Mordock?"

"Sir?"

"Find the chink in his armor.  Scan the living daylights out of him, and tell me what you find."  He punched a button on the arm of his chair.  "Bridge to engineering."

"_Scott here_."

"Scotty, can you give us any more phaser power?"

"_I can try.  I don't know how much I can do._"

"Do what you can.  Driscoll out."

"He's coming in behind us, sir," Jacobs warned.

"Aft torpedoes," said Driscoll.

"Can't sir.  We already fired them," Jacobs replied.

"What?"

"We only had six torps in the aft mag."

"How many up front?"

"Ten port and starboard."

"Dammit.  Mordock, anything?" Driscoll asked.

"Not yet, sir."

Just then, the robeast lunged, trying to catch the starship with its claws.  At the last second, the starship swerved and the blow glanced off of the shields.  Angered, the robeast curled its tail around, firing a missile barrage.

"Report!" Driscoll called.

"Aft shields at forty percent," Jacobs replied.  

"Captain!" said Mordock.

"Yeah?"

"Scan complete.  Analysis shows significant weaknesses in the robeast's armor at the limb joints and near the missile tubes."

"Can we hit it?"

"If we tighten the beam diameter, we can inflict damage in the necessary areas."

Seconds ticked by, feeling like hours, until Driscoll rose from his seat.  "T.J.," he said, glancing at her.  "Modify the phasers to Mordock's specs.  Mike, on my mark, come about and prepare to execute a Picard Maneuver.  Ready full torpedo spread, fire on my command."

The barrage of orders was obeyed silently.  When Curtis announced that the helm was ready, Driscoll sat back down in his chair.  "Range to target?"

"Fifty thousand kilometers," said Mordock.

"Helm, in three, two, one, engage!"

The _Berlin_ whirled around and shot to warp nine for a split second, instantaneously closing to point-blank range on the robeast.  The Doom construct was confused, seeing, for a second, two starships where there had been one.

The nearer ship fired, eight torpedoes punching into the robesast, exploding against it in hellish antimatter fury.  The robeast spun wildly, in pain, trying to bring its tail to bear, only to be stung behind its knees, in its elbows, and under its flailing arms.  

Enraged, the robeast lunged, dodging down to avoid the painful red beams.  Suddenly, one caught it between its neck and shoulder, and it cringed painfully, ducking away.  Almost by accident, it struck the ship with its tail, a metal-crushing, bone-jarring smack near the port torpedo tube.

The ship's bridge erupted in chaos, sparks exploding from panels, and crewmen falling to the deck.  "Damage report!" Gredar hissed.

"Torpedo room one is out of action," said Singh.  "Hull breach on deck sixteen."

"Come around!" Driscoll shouted, coughing on smoke from burned circuits.  "Phasers!"  he watched as the red energy beams lashed out and struck the robeast in its sensitive spots, but only served to slow the monster down.

The robeast glared at the _Berlin_, clicked its claws, and moved in for another attack.

*********************************************************************************************

Keith looked around from the cockpit of Black Lion.  After the Lions had launchd, they had set to work clearing the skies of Doom fighters.  After sixty or so had fallen, the remainder retreated, and the Lions gave chase, which was how Keith and the others found themselves in orbit.

Suddenly, he saw a flash off to one side and looked over.  The _Berlin_ had just sent the robeast spinning with a torpedo salvo.  But the robeast answered back, fighting in close and smacking its tail against the _Berlin_'s hull, causing the vessel to turn away.

"Keith, looks like it's that time," said Lance.

"Right.  Ready to form Voltron."

***********************************************************************************************

The robeast was about to grip the _Berlin_'s saucer in its claws, when Jacobs fired the last available torpedo, knocking the beast away.  But the detonation was too close to the ship.  

"Forward shields collapsing," Jacobs reported.

"Emergency power to forward shields," Driscoll ordered.

"New sensor contact bearing two-eight-four mark three-three-zero," Mordock announced.  "It's Voltron."

"Good," Driscoll replied.  "T.J., keep firing, keep him occupied."

"Aye, sir."

*********************************************************************************************

Keith watched as the _Berlin_ speared the robeast with several more phaser hits, maintaining it attention and allowing Voltron to approach unnoticed.  At the last moment, Keith announced, "Form Blazing Sword!"

Voltron's hands clapped together, the Blazing Sword forming between them as they parted.  The great robot warrior closed in.  "Ready!" Keith called as Voltron raised the sword.

The _Berlin_ struck again, and as the robeast dodged, Voltron brought the sword down, slicing the robeast in two.

*********************************************************************************************

A cheer erupted on the _Berlin_'s bridge as the robeast exploded in a massive fireball.  When it cleared, Voltron stood proudly in its place.

Driscoll touched a control on the arm of his chair, opening a channel.  "Thanks, Keith.  Perfect timing."

"_Are you all right_?"

"Been better, but we'll survive.  Where's the _Unity_?"

"_She was giving us supporting fire, last I saw her_."

"Do me a favor:  Contact them and ask them to help us with the _Farallon_.  There's gonna be a lot of casualties over there."

"_Will do_."

"Thanks."  He closed the channel and turned to Lt. Curtis.  "Helm, return to the _Farallon_.  Impulse engines, all ahead full."

*******************************************************************************************

"No!" Lotor shouted, leaping up from his chair.  "How could they have survived?  Haggar!  You promised me that robeast would destroy them!"

Haggar stepped out of the shadows in the corner of the battleship's bridge, her blue cat in her arms.  "I wasn't planning on fighting the _Berlin_ and Voltron!"  she replied.  "My robeast wasn't ready for both at once!  Your fighters were supposed to keep the Lions busy."

Lotor scowled darkly.  It was true, his fighters had failed.  And the robeast had attacked the wrong ship.  But the _Unity_ had been no match for his own vessel, that much had gone right.  The plan had been flawless, but the execution was sloppy.

Of course, there were other ways. . .

********************************************************************************************

"Approaching the _Farallon_, sir," Mordock reported.

"Close to transporter range," Driscoll ordered, studying the now-inverted ship on the viewer.  "Tell the Sheik to prepare to receive wounded."

Suddenly, Jacobs shouted, "Doom battleship off the port bow, closing fast!"

"Ready phasers, warn them off!" Driscoll ordered.

"I'm getting a response, sir," said Jacobs.  "Prince Lotor wants to name his terms."

"On audio."

"_Stop right there, Driscoll_," said Lotor.

Driscoll nodded to Curtis, who brought the ship to a full stop.  "What do you want, Lotor?"

"_You know what I want.  Surrender now.  Turn your ship and the Lions over to me, and I will spare your comrades._"

********************************************************************************************

Allura watched in horror as the scene unfolded.  All of Lotor's weapons were aimed at the helpless _Farallon_.

"_Lotor_," she heard Adam say, "_If you do_, _you won't live to see tomorrow_."

"_Join me now_," Lotor ordered, "_You're either with us or against us._"

**********************************************************************************************

Driscoll could feel the eyes of his crew upon him as he thought out his next move.  _Where is the _Unity? he thought.  "Gredar," he mumbled quietly, "commence transport.  Now."

He watched Gredar get up and relay the order to Singh.  She punched a command into her board, then again, then a third time.  She looked back and mouthed, _Transporters down_.

Driscoll was stunned.  There seemed no way out.  No transporters, no tractor beams, no shields.  He could wither surrender and sacrifice his ship and crew, trusting Lotor's word that he'd spare the _Farallon_, or refuse, condemning the other ship.

He shook his head.  _No, there must be a way out.  There's no such thing as a no-win scenario_.

"_What is your choice_?" Lotor demanded.  

"Lotor, you are a cold, heartless bastard.  You have no honor, and no sense of decency.  You leave me with no choice.  The Federation does not negotiate with terrorists, nor do we bow to their acts.  I will not surrender."

"_Then consider this a declaration of war_."

The battleship fired on the _Farallon_, focusing its lasers on the warp core hatch.  At the same time, the _Berlin _fired on the battleship.

Both Lotor's ship and the _Farallon_ erupted in planes where they were hit, explosions spreading throughout, until both were torn asunder in violent showers of light and debris.

Unnoticed by the _Berlin_'s sensors, two small coffin-ships ejected from the battleship and raced off for Doom, their retreat hidden by the exploding ships.

*********************************************************************************************

Driscoll sat in silence a moment, watching the fading glow of the explosions.  The _Farallon_ had had a crew of 300 men and women, and had been in service less than a year.

Finally, he rose from his seat.  "Return to orbit, Lieutenant," he said quietly.  "T.J., hail the_ Unity_."

Jacobs made three attempts, then reported, "No response."  She glanced down at a blinking light on her panel.  "But Commander Mendoza is hailing."

"Put him on."  A moment later, Keith appeared on the viewer.  "Keith."

"I'm sorry, Adam."

"Thanks, Keith.  Any word from Coran?"

"Not yet.  He's probably still gathering damage reports."

"Okay.  Let's try to find the _Unity_ and regroup.  They may be back."

Keith nodded.  "Agreed.  See you later," he said, closing the channel.


	9. The Dust Settles

Disclaimer: What's owned by either Paramount or WEP isn't mine.  The rest is.  All other standard disclaimers apply.

Star Tron: Louder Than Words Chapter 9: The Dust Settles 

Three hours after the battle, Driscoll joined the Voltron Force, Marshal Graham, Admiral Nechayev, and the others on the ground at the Castle of Lions.  The Force had discovered the remains of the _Unity_, but no survivors.  However, during the battle, some 68 survivors from the _Farallon_ had made it to the escape pods and then safely to the surface of Arus.

The fighters had caused extensive damage to the village.  A number of buildings had been destroyed by fighters, others caught fire after downed fighters crashed into them and exploded.  Casualties numbered in the dozens.  Miraculously, the Starfleet command post was undamaged, and became the central rallying point for the damage control efforts.

The _Berlin_ itself was also badly damaged.  Two hull breaches, one torpedo room out of action, transporters and tractor beams inoperable, three shield generators were destroyed, the warp drive was damaged, and seven crewmen were killed.  Over three times that many were wounded.  To top it off, they had one photon torpedo left, and most of the phaser power cells were drained by the use of tightened beams and increased output power.

Once all the information had been presented, Nechayev called Driscoll aside, and the two ducked into a side hall off of the Control Room.  And Driscoll knew what it was about.  He'd been charged with defending Federation interests in this dimension, and he'd failed.  The _Farallon_ was lost, and his own ship was nearly crippled.  All from a single robeast attack.  Over 400 Starfleet and Alliance people were dead or wounded, including Admiral Popovitch.  And it was all his fault.

"Captain, what happened today was inexcusable," Nechayev began.

"I know, sir.  I accept full responsibility."

"For what?"

"For the attack.  I said I could defend the wormhole, and I was wrong.  I lost the _Farallon_, and the _Berlin_ is barely spaceworthy.  I failed in my duties as captain, and in my assignment, and I am ready to accept the consequences.  We can be ready to return to Earth in 36 hours."

Nechayev looked at him strangely.  "Yes, you're right.  You did fail.  But it wasn't your fault.  It was a brilliant tactic, masking their approach behind the planet.  And you had no time to act before the _Farallon_ was crippled.  But the _Berlin_ did keep the robeast away from the _Farallon_.  You couldn't possibly have done that and deal with Lotor at the same time.  

"Captain, I'm not here to pat your hand and wipe your nose.  What happened was terrible, but you did the best you could with what you had.  You are not at fault.  Now suck it up.  We've got work to do."

"Sir?"

"I've talked with Soval and the Councilors, and the Alliance people.  We're going to sign the treaty.  Doom declared war on us.  That means the gloves are off.  I've also called for a field refit team, and the CST's _Vila_ and _Newport News_ will be arriving tomorrow to repair and refit the _Berlin_.  Once that's done, we'll talk about your next mission."

"Yes, sir."

"Furthermore, you may consider this mission accomplished.  You won't be going to the brig.  We'll need you here."

"Thank you, Admiral."

Nechayev nodded, and lead the way back into the Control Room.  Everyone looked up as they entered, and Keith said, "Admiral Soval told us the news.  Welcome to the war."

Driscoll nodded, and the group began to discuss damage control from the attack, and options for a counter-strike.

********************************************************************************************

Late that night, Driscoll was in his room in the castle, trying to put together seven letters to the families of the crewmen he'd lost.  Scattered around the room were crumpled sheets of paper from failed attempts.

There was a knock on the door, and Adam bade the caller enter.  He was only mildly surprised to see Keith walk into the chamber.  "How's it going?"

Driscoll shook his head.  "Terrible.  Of all the things a captain does, this is the one I never wanted to do."

Keith nodded.  "It's never easy, is it?  Explaining to a mother or a husband or a wife that someone they love isn't coming home."

"No, it's not.  I mean, how do you tell someone that somebody died because you screwed up?"

Keith looked at him.  "Is that what you think?"

"I'm the captain.  It's ultimately my responsibility.  I know Nechayev cleared me but…"

Keith sat down in a chair near Driscoll's desk.  "Adam, let me tell you something, as one commander to another.  You'll always think it's your fault.  You'll always wonder, 'what if I'd done this or that?'  That's part of the job.

"But if you have trouble accepting it from Nechayev, then take it from me.  It wasn't your fault.  I've seen Coran's sensor logs.  You did nothing wrong.  But you could only handle one threat at a time.  You can't be everywhere.  You didn't know Lotor had destroyed the _Unity_, or that he'd go after the _Farallon_."

Adam nodded.

"That's the first time you've seen one of your ships go down, isn't it?"

"Yeah.  I didn't think it would bug me this much.  I mean, I read the reports from Wolf 359, and the casualty reports coming in from the DMZ, but I've never seen it first hand."

"I'd like to say it gets easier, but it doesn't.  It does get easier to deal with, though."

Adam nodded and scrawled another sentence on the paper in front of him.  Then he crumpled it up and tossed it aside.

Keith took in all the papers scattered about.  It was easy to see that Driscoll was not used to this.  "Can I make a suggestion?"

"Sure."

"Tell it like it is.  Don't sugarcoat it.  People appreciate that."

"Thanks, Keith, I'll try that."

Keith nodded, then rose.  "I'll see you at practice tomorrow."

"Can't make it.  Memorial services."

"Okay.  Good luck," Keith replied, and left Adam to his work.

*******************************************************************************************

_Captain's Log, Stardate 51341.3:  The refit of the _Berlin_ is nearly completed.  Our weapons and shields have been upgraded, and the damage sustained in the assault two weeks ago has been repaired.  Now, we're only waiting for resupply of consumables and sailing orders._

"Okay, one, two, three, lift!" Lt. Turner called, and he and the other three men lifted the quantum torpedo into its storage rack.  Normally, this would have been done with an antigrav lift, but they were all being used elsewhere, so the torpedo crew resorted to old-fashioned elbow grease.

Captain Driscoll wiped the sweat from his brow.  That was the last of twenty-four quantum torpedoes that the _Berlin_ had received, in addition to 100 standard photon torpedoes.  Driscoll had been inspecting the torpedo room, and volunteered to lend a hand with the loading.  This was more than welcomed by the crew, as each torpedo weighed well over 250 kilos.

"Good job, fellas," said Turner.  "That should be it."

"Yep, that's the last one, unless they're gonna give us extras."

Turner chuckled.  "I doubt that, sir."

"So do I," said Driscoll.  Just then, his combadge chirped.  "_Nechayev to Driscoll_."

"Driscoll here."

"_Captain, would you please join me at the Castle of Lions?_"

"On my way.  Driscoll out."  He turned to his crew.  "Gotta bail, guys."

"A mission, sir?" An ensign asked expectantly.

Driscoll smiled.  "We'll see," he said, heading for the door.  "But it probably wouldn't hurt to get those torpedoes ready."


	10. Let the Battle Be Joined

Disclaimer: What's owned by either Paramount or WEP isn't mine.  The rest is.  All other standard disclaimers apply.

Star Tron: Louder Than Words

Chapter 10:  Let the Battle Be Joined

The next morning, Lieutenant Junior-Grade Michael Curtis walked into the briefing room for the daily senior staff meeting.  But today, something was different.  All night, crews from the CST's had been hurriedly finishing their work, while the _Berlin_'s crewmen made their ship ready to sail.  Something big was about to happen, and as soon as he walked into the room, he knew he was right.

Captain Driscoll stood at the end of the room near the large viewscreen, which displayed a chart of the Denubian Galaxy.  The Captain had traded his standard uniform for a pilot's jumpsuit.  It looked like the duty uniform, except that it was a one-piece affair, with hard rings around the cuffs, ankles, and collar which provided a low-power forcefield around the gloves, flight boots, and helmet.  This would create an airtight seal on the uniform in the event of an ejection into vacuum.  It, like the standard uniform, was black, but the gray shoulder mantle extended all the way down the sleeves, and the left shoulder bore the patch of the Starfleet Fighter Corps, and the right sported the emblem of the United Federation of Planets.  Above his combadge, Driscoll wore his silver wings, and below it was a patch resembling the Lion keys of the Voltron Force.  Beside Driscoll stood Admiral Nechayev and Commander Keith.  

When everyone was seated, Driscoll began the briefing. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.  Usually, you guys give me the lowdown on what's happening on the ship.  But today, I'm doing the talking.  Today, we're going to fly our first combat mission of the Drule War.  Codename: Operation Doolittle."

At this, there was a murmur of surprise and satisfaction, Gredar grunted, and Scott mumbled, "About bloody time."

Driscoll smiled.  "Our target is the Doom shipyard at Centa, in the Tourmaline System.  Our objective is to put the shipyard out of action, and destroy as many ships as we can."

Now, the chart zoomed in to show the Tourmaline System, and then again to show the shipyard complex orbiting Centa.  It was a sprawling, spidery complex with six main branches radiating from a central hub.  Each branch supported six berths with ships in various stages of construction of refit.

"Our course will take us across a significant portion of Doom space.  It's very likely we'll encounter other ships.  To minimize the risk of interception, we will maintain warp 9 throughout our ingress and egress."

Keith was the next to speak, providing information on the shipyard, including sensor blind spots, defenses, and soft points.  Doom had become complacent of late, and there were only a few heavy laser cannons defending the installation.  With so little threat to their bases, the Doom and Drule Empires weren't investing in defensive systems the way they used to.  And they were about to pay the price for their arrogance.

Once Keith had presented the intelligence briefing, Driscoll took over and outlined the plan of attack.  The _Berlin_ would make three passes on the target.  On the first, they would use two of their quantum torpedoes to disable the central hub, which contained the command, control, and power modules.  On the next pass, they'd use standard photon torpedoes to break up the structure.  The final pass would be a clean up, targeting the ships and any structural elements that remained intact after the first two passes.

"On the way home," said Driscoll, "we'll attack targets of opportunity.  Whatever seems worth the trouble, we'll make one pass, do what we can, and continue on.  Are there any questions?"

"What about robeasts?" Singh asked.

"It's not likely you'll see one," said Keith.  "Each robeast is made to order, and takes quite a while to prepare.  Lotor usually saves them for us."

After a moment, Nechayev stepped forward.  "Two weeks ago, Lotor made the mistake of trying to frighten us away.  Despite our attempts at a peaceful resolution, he attacked us.  Today, you will show him what he's gotten himself into.  You came to this dimension as the Federation's olive branch.  Now, you are its sword.  I wish you good luck, and good hunting."

"Departure stations, people," said Driscoll.  "Let's kick it into gear."

*********************************************************************************************

At the Doom shipyard orbiting Centa, Commander Rolkan made the rounds of the control center.  Everything was as it had been for months.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  The only thing that changed was the status of the ships under construction or refit.

He'd become used to the routine, and enjoyed it.  It was a nice, quiet life.  He'd never earn any medals, but he could look forward to a long, safe career.  He'd seen the lot of the front-line commanders, and didn't envy them.  Honor and glory were hardly adequate compensation for getting your rear end chewed off by a giant robotic lion!

He retired to his office to review the daily reports, and had just settled in at his desk when the sensor operator paged him.  "What is it?" he asked.

"Sir, I have an unidentified contact, approaching at high speed.  I think you should see this."

Rolkan went out to the command center, and found the sensor operator struggling to identify the new object.  It was a ship with a large disk in front, a semi-cylindrical hull, and two long engines mounted on outrigger pylons.  "What is that?"

"Unknown."

"Stand by defenses.  Full alert."

As the alarms blared around him and the defensive systems powered up, Rolkan studied the data on the new ship, and suddenly got a very bad feeling.

**********************************************************************************************

"Approaching target, sir," Mordock announced.

"Slow to impulse power.  Prepare for first attack run."  Driscoll ordered.  

The _Berlin_ drew nearer to the base, but still there was no response.  Driscoll rose and walked up behind Singh.  "Put me on intercom."

Singh touched a control on her panel.  "Ready."

"All hands, this is the Captain.  You're probably all wondering what we're doing.  Our mission is to attack and destroy a Doom shipyard in retaliation for the attack on the U.S.S. _Farallon_.  At this time, I am ordering all hands to battle stations.  I repeat, all hands, man your battle stations.  It's payback time."

The channel closed, and Driscoll returned to his seat.  

"All decks report ready, sir," said Singh.

Driscoll studied the base intently.  "Commander Jacobs," he said, "Lock quantum torpedoes on target."

Jacobs executed her orders.  "Quantum torpedoes locked on target."

"Load tubes one and two, stand by to fire," Driscoll barked in a sharp staccato.

"Tubes one and two loaded and ready, _sir_!" Jacobs replied in the same rhythm.

Driscoll watched as the shipyard loomed larger.  Suddenly, the space around the starship filled with murderous yellow energy bolts, but the _Berlin_ flew on.  The lasers struck the shields forcefully, rocking the vessel.  "Fire one!"

"One away," Jacobs replied, launching the torpedo.

"Fire two!" 

"Two away!"  Jacobs replied.  The entire bridge crew watched the two blue fireballs streak toward the shipyard.

********************************************************************************************

Rolkan stared in disbelief.  This strange ship had just flown straight into the teeth of his defenses.  Over a dozen lazon weapons, the finest Doom had, were hammering on it at full power, but the ship kept coming.  

Then, as the ship closed in, it fired two shots, the blue weapons closing quickly.  He glanced down at the sensor panel one last time as it finally displayed the ship's identification, and looked up just in time to see a fireball tear through the wall in front of him and engulf the control room in flames.

********************************************************************************************

The torpedoes tore into the central hub, one high, one low, and the lasers stopped firing.  "Direct hits," Mordock announced.  "Main power is down, and I'm reading extensive damage on all levels.

Driscoll grinned.  "Excellent.  Come around for the second pass.  Load photon torpedoes and target the arms."

"They're broadcasting a distress call," Jacobs warned.  

"Jam it.  Phasers, target their comm array, fire at will."

As the ship came around, the phasers lashed out, crimson beams shredding the antenna array.

The _Berlin_ surged forward, closing in.  "Target in range," said Jacobs.

"Fire."

"Torpedoes away," Jacobs replied.

Six photon torpedoes shot rapid-fire from the _Berlin_'s launch tubes, each one striking a docking arm, cutting it from the hub and ripping it apart in a firestorm.  The force of the explosion sent the hub spinning away, a comet-tail of debris streaming behind it.  Pieces of the arms banged around, smashing into ships, tearing pieces away as worker droids tried to get out of the way.

By now, the _Berlin_ had come around and begun shooting at the ships.  Some of which remained moored to the drifting arms, but many had broken loose.  The powerless, damaged, unshielded ships were quickly torn asunder by the starship's phasers.

Suddenly, Mordock announced, "Doom fighters, bearing one-seven-four."

"How many?" Gredar asked.

"Six."

Driscoll looked at his first officer.  "I'll take them.  You finish up here."

"Aye, sir," Gredar replied.

As the Captain entered the turbolift, he called to Singh, "Maria, have the shuttlebay ready my plane, anti-fighter load out."

"Yes, sir," Singh replied as Driscoll disappeared into the turbolift.

Gredar examined the viewer.  Most of the vessels were already destroyed, either directly by the _Berlin_'s phasers or as a result of collisions with wreckage.  In truth, he was shocked at how easily it had gone.  The Gorn had expected they'd have to fight their way in and out.

He watched as Driscoll took out the first fighter with a head-on firing pass, then came around and used and antimatter-armed, guided HVAR rocket to destroy a second.

As he was coming around on a third, two others swooped in on his tail, lasers blazing.  "Commander," said Gredar.

"I see them," Jacobs replied.  A moment later, Driscoll's tail was cleared by two precision strikes of the ship's phasers.

"_Thanks, T.J._," Driscoll said.  He line up on his target and fired his phasers, scoring hits on the engine and tail.  The fighter disintegrated in a ball of flame.

"_Where's the last one_?" Driscoll asked.

"He fled, sir.  Your vector two-nine-seven, range 500,000 kilometers and opening."

"_Aw, forget it_.  _Returning to the ship.  Set course for Arus, and engage when I land_."

"Acknowledged," Gredar replied as Curtis entered the course and speed into the helm.

From the _Berlin's_ arrival to her departure, the attack lasted a total of eight minutes.  In that time, the Centa shipyard had been completely destroyed.  The _Berlin_ suffered only minor shield damage.

On the way back to Arus, the _Berlin_ encountered several Doom warships, destroying three star cutters and a battleship, and leaving a second battleship and a cruiser disabled.

*******************************************************************************************

"Impossible!"  Zarkon bellowed.  "The entire base?"

The King of Doom had just learned of the destruction of the Centa shipyard from the pilot of the fighter that fled the battle, and he was furious.  There was no excuse for losing the shipyard.  The _Berlin_ should have been detected and intercepted.  No, she should have been destroyed before she ever had the chance to strike.

"I'm afraid so, My Lord.  The ship flew straight through the base's defenses and tore it to pieces.  We detected a brief distress call, and my unit was sent to investigate.  But it was already too late.  We were attacked by a fighter from the ship, which destroyed three of my comrades.  Two others fell to the ship."

Zarkon waved to the guards in the corner.  "Take him away," he ordered.

After the guards left with the pilot, Lotor and Haggar stepped out of the shadows.  "You are an incompetent fool, Lotor," said Zarkon.  "All you had to do was destroy the _Berlin_.  One ship.  And you failed.  Now, we've lost one of our biggest shipyards in the Coral Quadrant."

"But father, you don't understand…"

"Silence!  Because of you, the Federation is at war with us.  We cannot fend them off.  We have nothing powerful enough.  One of their ships is worth a score of ours."

"But they have only one, Father," said Lotor.

"What?" 

"According to my operatives on Arus, only the _Berlin_ will be assigned.  The Federation is at war elsewhere, and that is their main focus.  For the foreseeable future, they will have only one ship here."

Zarkon nodded.  "That _is_ interesting.  It seems you are of some value, after all."

"But don't forget, Sire, even with only one ship, there is still Voltron to deal with," said Haggar.

"I know that, witch.  Even with only one ship, combined with Voltron, they are still a powerful threat.  We must take measures."

"Yes, father.  I will oversee the fortification of our bases myself."

"No.  You've done enough, Lotor.  You will have your operatives gather all the information they can.  Haggar, I want you to begin working on a way to stop Voltron and the _Berlin_.  I'm sure your talents can be of some use."

"Yes, Sire," Haggar replied.

"Now leave me," Zarkon ordered.

Lotor and Haggar left the room, leaving Zarkon to his thoughts.  As disgusted as he was with the recent events, he couldn't help but see an opportunity.  If Lotor spoke true, then the ship would likely be on restricted duty.  That meant that she would be easy to subdue.  As for Voltron, if Haggar and Lotor could keep the pressure on with robeast attacks, he too could be kept at Arus.

But still, it would only be a matter of time before the _Berlin_ became more active, and possibly gain reinforcements.  If he were to act, he'd need to act soon.  But he knew he couldn't do it on his own, even with Haggar's magic.  He'd need reinforcements.  The problem, he realized, was where to get them.

*********************************************************************************************

After returning to Arus, Driscoll met with Nechayev, Graham and Coran and presented his after-action report.  When he finished, Nechayev nodded approvingly.  "Well done, Captain.  You've exceeded all our expectations for this mission.  The operation certainly lived up to its name."

"Indeed," said Space Marshal Graham.  "It would have been impossible for one of our vessels to penetrate so far into Doom space and attack a station like that."

"Well, just don't get used to it, Marshal," said Driscoll.

"Excuse me?"

Coran cleared his throat.  "I believe the Captain means that after this raid, Zarkon will tighten the defenses of his bases and planetary installations, and likely put more patrols out.  We have now shown the ability and will to strike his forces in his own territory, and he will want to prevent that."

"Right," Driscoll agreed.  "Those pop guns of theirs aren't much good on their own, but if they attacked _en masse_, they could get through our shields.  And those lazon missiles the cruisers carry are serious."

Nechayev nodded.  "That's right.  The _Berlin_ will be available to help you, Marshal, but it is Captain Driscoll's discretion on what missions to accept.  We can't afford to lose any ships right now, and if the _Berlin_ is lost, it will be a while before she can be replaced."

"I understand, Admiral.  And I will arrange support for the missions wherever possible."

"Thank you.  Now, if there's nothing else, I suggest we adjourn for the night.  We have a big day tomorrow."

"Yes, we do," said Coran.

**********************************************************************************************

The next morning dawned bright and clear.  Outside the Castle of Lions, everyone from the surrounding villages had gathered for the signing ceremony.  

From the flagpoles, the banners of the Galaxy Alliance, Arus, and the United Federation of Planets flew in the light breeze.  Above the crowd, on the balcony overlooking the bridge, a large wooden table had been set up.  Seated behind it were Space Marshal Graham, Senators Ulrich and Matheson, Admirals Nechayev and Soval, Councilors White and T'Pren, Coran, Princess Allura, and Captain Driscoll.  Behind them stood the Voltron Force, the Senior Staff of the _Berlin_, the commander of the Starfleet engineering detachment on Arus, and the two ranking survivors of the _Farallon_.

The treaty was originally to be called the Treaty of Arus, but it was renamed in honor of the two fallen vessels and their crews.  T'Pren and Ulrich each gave a brief speech to the gathered masses, and then Coran spoke about the treaty itself.  How it was a great step forward for both peoples, allowing for cultural and scientific exchanges, trade, and mutual support, the rewards of which would be reaped for a long time to come by both sides.

Finally, at noon, the Unity/Farallon Accord was signed.

**We here, the undersigned, with the full authority invested in us, do hereby agree to and vow to abide by the stipulations of this Accord.**

**For the United Federation of Planets**                                    **For the Galaxy Allianc**e

                     TPren                                                Georg Ulrich

T'Pren, Federation Council Member                             Georg Ulrich

Representing the Planet Vulcan                                     Senator of the Galaxy Alliance

      Alynna Nechayev                                  Ronald Graham

Fleet Admiral Alynna Nechayev                                    Space Marshal Ronald Graham

Starfleet Commander in Chief                                       Allied Star Fleet

        Adam C. Driscoll                        Allura Altaine

Captain Adam C. Driscoll                                             Princess Allura Altaine

United Federation of Planets Starfleet                            Ruler of Planet Arus

As Allura and Driscoll set down their pens and the ritual handshaking began, a cheer erupted from the crowd.  The people below didn't need fancy words or eloquent speakers to know what the treaty meant.  They'd seen it for themselves.  They'd seen it in their towns and in the skies.  Safety, freedom, and hope for the future.  These were things they had longed for, and were finally seeing.  

Coran surveyed the scene with satisfaction, shaking the hands that were thrust his way, and muttering diplomatic niceties.  Days like this, so full of hope and promise, had been too few for too many years.  He, along with everyone else, knew that there was still much to be done.  But on that clear Arusian afternoon, with new allies, new hope, and a new vision for the future, everything seemed right with the Universe.

_Author's Note_:  _That's it for the second installment of my series.  I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks to everyone who read and reviewed, especially RedLion2, T.F. Kit, and Crash77A.  I appreciate the support.  I'm already working on another story, and this one will focus in more on the VF characters.  Stay tuned._


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